


Sweetest Downfall

by nyaatalie



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Prison, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 64,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7539778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyaatalie/pseuds/nyaatalie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sofi Cabello has been missing for one year. Camila attends therapy to help herself heal from the traumatic loss. Little does she know, her therapist, Lauren Jauregui, is the same woman who murdered her younger sister. Serial Killer AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

No one would ever suspect her. When the term "serial killer" is mentioned, people think of middle aged men with a history of childhood abuse or trauma. High school dropouts and drug addicts. She was raised by loving parents in a wonderful community. This girl didn't mutilate animals in her childhood. She completed high school, graduated college, and went on to earn a master's degree in Psychology to become a psychologist. Lauren Jauregui defies the stereotypes painted by the media.

She's an extremely charismatic individual, surrounded by countless friends. Anyone would be proud to know her. And yet here she stands in her basement over 14 year old Sofi Cabello. Her choice of victims is random. She does not kill for revenge or any reason other than her sick psychopathic desires. Watching the life leave her victims' eyes, feeling the warmth leave their skin, hearing their screams and witnessing their struggling... it's what fuels her. This particular victim was biking home from a friend's house at the wrong time and wrong place. Lauren stuffed her in the back of her car and transported the young girl to her house.

The small girl lays on top of a table with her wrists and ankles bound to restrict movement. A bandana is used as a makeshift gag. When Lauren drags her blade across Sofi's neck, she makes a sickening gargling noise as blood spurts out, staining the table and the killer. The green eyed girl's lips curl up into a smirk as she watches her victim's eyes glaze over.

This is not an unfamiliar game for Lauren. It's her 27th kill. She's been murdering for the past year and has developed a foolproof routine for disposing of the bodies. After preparing an acid bath in a plastic tub, she soaks the corpse. In a matter of hours, most of the flesh will dissolve, leaving a puddle of blood and organs. And those can be destroyed in a fire.

While she waits for the dissolving process, Lauren heads into her bathroom to shower off the blood. Stepping out of her clothing, she studies her naked body in the mirror. Dark crimson blood stains her face, neck, and arms, contrasting her pale skin. This shade of red is her favorite.

*****

It's been a year since the murder of Sofi Cabello. A week ago as Lauren scrolled through her appointment schedule on her computer, one name in particular stood out beyond all the rest.

Camila Cabello.

Cabello.

She remembers watching the news in the days following the murder of the young girl. Most of her victims were older. This was the first adolescent she killed, and naturally those missing persons cases receive the most attention.

"MISSING: SOFIA CABELLO." On every single news channel she flipped to, that was the headline. The picture a young Latina girl was on the front of every newspaper in Miami. The case evolved from citywide to statewide, then finally nationwide. For a month, the Cabello family made appearances on every famous news show in America. They were always teary eyed, begging for the return of their daughter. The older sister, Camila, never said a word, sitting beside her parents with a blank expression on her face as if she had nothing left inside of her. They hoped for the best—little did they know, their daughter was far from saving. She was gone at the hands of Lauren. And that knowledge was enough to satisfy Lauren's sadistic thirst for the rest of her life.

The case stopped getting coverage a few months in. Most people figured that she was a lost cause. The Cabello's could no longer afford to fly around the country and do interviews, as most of their money was being funneled toward the investigation. About 6 months after Sofi's mysterious disappearance, Camila attempted suicide and was hospitalized. The family was only receiving negative media coverage at this point, and refused to make any further comments.

And now the broken girl sits on the couch facing Lauren's desk, wearing the same exact expression that she wore on every televised interview: blank. Her dark eyes meet the older woman's, but Lauren can tell that she isn't really looking at her. Just from her appearance, Lauren can make a few educated inferences.

The bags under Camila's eyes indicate that she hasn't gotten a peaceful night of sleep in months—her dreams are probably haunted by her sister's disappearance. Her arms are covered by long sleeves, despite the 100 degree weather in Miami—they probably cover scars. Scars from the suicide attempt, scars from other incidents of self-harm. She's been through a lot. She doesn't know she's sitting across the person who ruined her life.

Clearing her throat softly, she breaks the silence. "Hi Camila, you can call me Lauren."

Camila nods. If you can call it that. She barely moves her head. It almost looked more like an involuntary spasm rather than a nod. But it was a nod.

Some clients don't speak at all in therapy. And Lauren learned that you can't force them to open up, they do that themselves. It may take weeks, even months for Camila to begin talking, if she even returns. Clearly, going to therapy wasn't her own idea.

"You can take your time. We have an hour. Whether you want to talk to me or just sit here with me in silence, it's up to you," Lauren tells her.

Interpreting her words as sarcasm, Camila finally speaks. "I didn't choose to be here. I got out of rehab and my doctor is forcing me to go." Although she shows little emotion, there is some anger behind her response.

"I understand," Lauren nods, assuring her in a gentle tone. "I didn't mean for it to come off like that. The act of simply coming to therapy is proven to help. Whenever you're ready to talk, I'm here."

Camila relaxes, moving her eyes to the ground. The two sit in silence, the younger girl's eyes fixed on the carpet and Lauren's eyes fixed on her. Occasionally Camila will glance up to look at the clock, but that's the most she'll move. As Lauren watches her, she begins to notice how much of a beautiful young woman she is. Sofi definitely resembles what she imagines to be a younger version of Camila. Somehow, even as emotionless and dead as she is, this girl is still attractive. Lauren pictures how she would look laughing, her full lips turned up into a smile that shows her perfect white teeth.

And then Lauren pictures how she would look cumming for her. Her eyes shut tight, her hands gripping the sheets, her mouth wide open as she moans "Lauren, Lauren" over and over again until the pleasure overwhelms her to the point where she can't form a coherent thought and all she can do is scream.

Her perversions are interrupted by her client standing up abruptly and leaving the room. Lauren's heart momentarily stops as an irrational thought enters her head. Fuck, she's a mind reader! She read Lauren's fucking thoughts and she got creeped out and now she's running away. But then she realizes that mind readers don't exist and the clock just struck 4:00 PM, ending the one hour time slot that every one of her clients is allotted.

They meet every Tuesday and Friday at 3:00 PM in her office. For the first month, every session is identical: Lauren greets Camila, Camila acknowledges her with a small nod, Camila sits down, one hour of silence (and Lauren imagining herself fucking Camila), and then Camila leaves.

The first time they share an actual conversation about a month into their sessions, it has nothing to do with her little sister's disappearance or her depression. Camila is the one to speak up about thirty minutes in.

"I started re-reading the Harry Potter series yesterday. I'm sorry, did I startle you?"

Lauren nearly jumps out of her seat when Camila starts speaking. She was lost in her sexual fantasies; the sudden break in the silence was alarming. Yet she shakes her head and smiles. "Don't mind me. I love that series, JK Rowling really created a fascinating world. Is this your second time reading the books?"

"Third. I read it for the first time as the books were released for the first time... the second time was right after I graduated high school and was bored out of my mind during summer break... and it's always been a favorite of mine so I figured, why not start reading them again?" Camila shrugs. Her voice is pleasant. The type that you want to listen to at night before you sleep. The type of voice that would be perfect for the radio or TV. And the type of voice that would be ideal screaming Lauren's name in bed.

"It's never a bad idea to immerse yourself in the things you love. Who are your favorite characters?" And just like that, the two of them talk not like therapist and patient, but like close friends. They discuss their favorite characters, which book was their favorite out of the seven, the translation of the book to the movies, and what house they would be in if they attended Hogwarts. Camila is truly engaged by this discussion, passionate about the Harry Potter universe. She laughs at Lauren's little jokes, she rolls her eyes when they talk about what character they hate. She shows actual emotion. When the clock strikes 4, Lauren can see clear disappointment in Camila's eyes, and she feels it too. She wants to continue the conversation, but the clock brings them back to reality. They aren't friends. Lauren is her therapist. Nothing more.

Camila sighs and stands up from the couch. "See you Friday," she smiles lightly at the other girl before exiting the room.

That little smile makes Lauren's heart skip a beat and blood to rush to her cheeks. Thank god the younger girl doesn't stick around long enough to see her get this flustered. She replays their interactions in her head, the memory of Camila's giggle causing her to blush even harder.

She has feelings for Camila. The sister of the girl she murdered. Fuck.

The following sessions, they continue their discussions, talking about everything from their favorite books and their favorite movies to their favorite foods and places to travel. Every session leaves Lauren wanting more. She wants to take Camila out for coffee and share their favorite memories with each other. She wants to sit on the beach with her at night, not talking and simply enjoying the calming sound of the waves crashing onto the shore. She wants everything with this girl.

When Camila finally lets her walls down for Lauren, it's completely unexpected. They're avidly talking about their favorite music artists and Camila is passionately talking about Ed Sheeran.

"His lyrics get me so much. I've never listened to any songs that accurately illustrate how I feel as much as his do. I went to one of his concerts. It was probably the best day of my life," Camila grins, recalling the memory with happiness.

"What's your favorite song by him?" Lauren inquires. "I'm really into Give Me Love. He sings with so much passion, it amazes me."

"Wake Me Up and Lego House... I used to sing those to Sofi all the time so she could fall asleep," Camila's smile quickly fades into a frown. Tears well up in her eyes and spill onto her face. Her body shakes as she sobs uncontrollably, allowing all of the sadness and anger she has been bottling up for the past months to finally release. With a sympathetic frown, Lauren hands her tissues from across the desk.

The crying doesn't stop. It only intensifies.

There is no such thing as pretty crying or a beautiful sadness. When there exists such a deep sorrow inside of someone, tears don't delicately flow out of their eyes one at a time with soft weeps. They stream out of their eyes, wetting their entire face. Snot collects, loud weeping noises escape the mouth, and it isn't pretty.

"I can't breathe, it hurts so much," Camila sobs, curling up into a ball on the couch as the sadness from the past months finally catches up with her. It consumes her. "It hurts so bad, Lauren."

It would be unprofessional for Lauren to move to the couch and hug Camila. When her clients cry, all she is supposed to do is hand them tissues. Otherwise it supposedly crosses boundaries and destroys the professionalism.

Fuck professionalism.

Lauren grabs more tissues and sits on the couch beside Camila. Wiping her tears as they escape her eyes, she wraps her arms around the smaller girl and holds her. "Shhhh, take a deep breath," Lauren whispers, stroking her long hair.

"I can't," Camila shakes her head, gasping for breath, unable to calm herself down.

"Yes you can. Breathe, babe, I'm here. You're ok, you're going to be ok," Lauren pulls her closer, rubbing her back with her other hand in a soothing manner. It takes Camila a few tries, but soon she is breathing normally. Still crying, but breathing.

She holds the brown eyed girl until the crying dies down. Until there is nothing but silence. Until there are no tears left for her to cry.

"I feel so empty," Camila sighs. "You know that feeling you get after you cry so hard that you feel like you're going to puke or pass out? When you feel like there's nothing left inside of you and nothing will ever happen again? Yeah. That's how it feels."

"But things will happen, Camila. Life will go on. I'm not going to tell you it's going to be easy because it won't be, it's going to be fucking hard but that's why I'm here for you. It doesn't get easier but it will get better. You will be okay. You're going to survive this," Lauren reassures her.

"I don't want to forget her," tears begin to fall out of Camila's eyes again, but they're more controlled. She doesn't have the energy to full out sob again. "She's my little sister and I love her. I can't just forget about her and stop hurting."

"You're not going to forget about her. I'm not saying that you should, because you shouldn't and you won't. But you will stop hurting. You love her and it hurts like hell right now, and it's going to hurt like hell for a while, but time will heal the wound. Whenever you think about her, you're going to be sad. Not so sad that you won't be able to function, though," Lauren soothes her worries. She had always been good at giving advice and comforting her friends when she was a teenager and they went through breakups or hard times. Maybe that's why she became a psychologist. Shame that she's secretly a murderer, though.

"She's dead because of me, Lauren."

"Don't say that."

"No, she is," Camila sits up and scoots away from Lauren. Her eyes are puffy from all the crying. "I was supposed to pick her up from her friend's house the night she went missing but I was out with friends. Our mom didn't want her riding her bike home late at night so she asked me to pick her up but I was... um... not in the best state to be driving. Mom had just broken her ankle so she couldn't drive, and Dad was out of town for business. Sofi had to bike home and that's when she was snatched. It's all my fault, Lauren, don't you see? Every time I replay that night I think about how I was partying while my sister was getting kidnapped and god knows what else. My parents know it too, I can see the look of shame in their eyes when they see me."

"Oh Camila..." Lauren frowns at this piece of new information. No wonder Camila has been beating herself up over it so much. "It's not your fault. You didn't know. You couldn't have known."

Camila glances at the clock. "Hour's up," she gathers the tissues as she stands up, throwing them in the waste basket on her way out.

Lauren sits there helpless as she watches Camila leave. Although she never feels any remorse for any lives she takes, she wants to take away all of the pain this girl is feeling. All she wants is for Camila to be ok.

Half of her expects Camila to revert back to the way she was when she first started therapy: silent, refusing to even make eye contact with Lauren. Camila proves her wrong when she walks into the next session, sits down, and immediately starts word vomiting her feelings. As she lets all of her thoughts and feelings out, she cries, but that is to be expected. The first step to solving any problem is to admit that there is a problem. Now that Camila is directly addressing her emotions instead of avoiding them at any cost, she has truly started the path to getting better.

*****

It amazed Lauren how resilient Camila was. After letting her walls come down and spilling all of her feelings to the psychologist, she began to recover. Lauren witnessed her go through each of the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and then finally, acceptance. She had her good days and her bad days. At the beginning of the recovery, they were mostly bad. Near the end, they became rare, and even on the bad days Camila knew she would be okay.

After a year of therapy and recovery, it soon became clear that Camila no longer required Lauren's services. Perhaps a monthly check-in, but nothing more than that. It felt bittersweet to say goodbye to the girl she had seen twice a week every week for a year. She has come so far—from feeling suicidal and empty to smiling and laughing once more, Lauren has never been more proud of any of her clients. Then again, she may be a little biased, given the feelings that she developed for the younger girl. She swears that Camila felt something back. There was undeniable chemistry between them.

Despite her strong feelings, on the day of their last session as Lauren hugged Camila goodbye, she did not ask for a cell phone number. Against her urges, she did not suggest that the two of them meet up outside of her office. The sister of Sofi Cabello was gone, never to be seen again outside of a potential television interview.

Or so Lauren thought.

A few months later, Lauren's best friend from childhood, Alexa, returns to Miami for the weekend. She lives in California but wanted to visit one of her closest friends. Tonight, after a day on the beach, they head to the most popular gay bar in the city.

Two mixed drinks and three shots later, Lauren is significantly intoxicated. Not enough to get sick, but enough to make questionable decisions. Her love life hasn't been very active. Her last relationship was when she was in grad school, and it ended so bitterly that she has strayed away from serious relationships. Every so often she sleeps around, looking for one night stands and casual, meaningless sex. This is one of those nights.

She's naturally a sexy and charming girl, but the alcohol intensifies her flirtatious tendencies even more. She hits on every attractive girl she lays eyes upon, making out with a few. None of them have the bedroom quality she is looking for, though.

"One more shot of Malibu please," Lauren leans against the bar, shouting above the loud bass of the music to the bartender. He pours a shot and slides it to her.

"Lauren?" a familiar voice speaks up to her left. Turning her head, she's shocked to see her former client, Camila.

For their sessions, she would never dress up at all. Most of the time she would show up in a hoodie and sweats as if she just rolled out of bed. It was therapy, she knew she didn't need to make any effort to look good. Nonetheless, Lauren still thought she was beautiful, even in clothes like that. Tonight just proves her point even further.

Camila is dressed in a short white long-sleeved dress, fitted to show off the best parts of her body. Specifically her ass. Holy shit, that ass. Her hair falls in light waves down to her waist, and she wears light makeup on her face.

"Camila!" Lauren throws her arms around the shorter girl, embracing her tightly. "I've missed seeing you every week! Holy shit, how are you? You look fucking great. Let me buy you a drink."

"That's alright, I'm done drinking for the night," Camila smiles graciously. "Thank you though. And I'm glad to see you too, I'm doing really well."

Before she forgets about the shot she ordered, Lauren downs it, coughing from the overwhelming taste of coconut in the beverage. That would have tasted better mixed with something. "Good. You deserve everything. The stars and the moon. Fuck psychology, I'm going to become an astronaut so I can bring you the moon," she drunkenly rambles.

"You're drunk," Camila giggles.

"And you're beautiful," Lauren responds, smooth as fuck. At least, in her mind she is. "Want to dance?"

"Why the hell not?" Camila accepts her former therapist's offer, taking her hand as she leads her onto the dance floor in the middle of all the sweaty bodies.

This is Miami's most popular gay bar for a reason. One of those being, the music isn't completely shitty. While Lauren's dancing is a little sloppy due to her intoxication, Camila is only buzzed. It lowers her inhibitions and allows her to show off her stripper moves that she would practice at home where no one could see her.

"Holy shit Camz, you can really fuck shit up," Lauren raises her eyebrows and compliments her as the song finishes. "In the good way! All the good ways. You're nothing but good, baby."

"Camz... I like that," Camila ponders over the nickname Lauren gave her for a moment. "Most people call me Mila."

"Then I will call you Camz," Lauren leans in closer to tell Camila something without having to shout it over the music. "Camz, babe, can I confess something?"

"Yeah of course, what is it?"

What if Lauren just said "Surprise, I killed your sister!" right now in the middle of this club? How would Camila react? She giggles at the ridiculous thought of her confessing that monster of a secret right now. No, that's not what she wanted to confess at all. Not even close. "I've wanted to kiss you since the first day you walked into my office. Your lips are just so... kissable. I want a taste. I want to know if you taste as good as I've been picturing for so long."

It's not too shocking of a confession. Camila could always lowkey tell when Lauren was fantasizing about her. "Do it," she shrugs. "Kiss me."

Once Lauren is encouraged, she goes for it. Cupping Camila's face, she kisses her, sucking her top lip then her bottom. Her tongue traces along the younger girl's mouth, as if to ask for permission to deepen the kiss. When Camila's mouth parts, Lauren locates her tongue with her own, their lips moving together like they are two halves of one whole that have finally found each other. It's like they were born to kiss one another, and every other pair of lips was just practice for this momentous occasion. Lauren has kissed countless girls and boys, but now she can't fathom kissing anyone but Camila.

As soon as the kiss ends, they are both left gasping for air, surprised by how passionate and sensual the kiss became. "Wow," is all Camila can muster up. She fans herself, taking deep breaths to replenish the air she lost from that kiss.

"Tasted even better than I imagined," Lauren licks her lips as if to try to taste any remnants of Camila's mouth. "Fuck. I don't want to do anything except kiss you for hours."

"I'm okay with that," Camila grins, throwing her arms around the taller girl's neck and pulling her closer. Their lips are about to make contact again when the bartender taps Lauren's shoulder.

"What?" Lauren turns to him, feeling more annoyed than someone stuck in traffic during rush hour.

He gestures to the corner where Alexa is puking into a trash can. "Your friend is sick."

Lauren rolls her eyes. "She'll be fine, just get her some water." She turns back to Camila, shutting her eyes and leaning forward to continue where they left off. Confused when her lips never meet Camila's, she's gently pushed away.

"Go help your friend, it's okay," Camila smiles. She's disappointed too, but she doesn't want to force Lauren to abandon her friend.

"Camz, I mean it, she's going to be fine," Lauren insists, growing slightly annoyed with her too.

"I'm not going to kiss you again tonight when your friend is throwing up in the corner," Camila steps away from Lauren. Grabbing a napkin from the bar and a pen, she scribbles her number and hands it to the older girl. "Here's my number. The third number is an 8 by the way, sorry, my handwriting isn't that great. Text me when you get home safe."

"Fine," Lauren sighs. "I'll text you soon." She hugs her goodbye and then heads over to her friend who has just finished puking.

"Why did you let me drink so much," Alexa slurs, leaning on her friend for support.

"You really cockblocked me," Lauren rolls her eyes. "C'mon. I'm gonna get us an Uber and go home."

When the Uber drops the pair off at Lauren's house and Alexa is safely in her guest room asleep, she retrieves the crumpled up napkin that she had placed in her bra for safekeeping. She types in the number to her phone, having to utilize more focus than normal to get the numbers right. There's still a good amount of booze in her system.

Lauren: Hiiii Camz it's Lauren! Got home safe, hope you do too We definitely need to pick up where we left off.

Camila responds pretty quickly.

Camila: Hey yeah I got home safe :) I agree, I'll text you later when we're both sober. Making plans right now probably wouldn't be very productive

The next morning, Lauren wakes up with a killer hangover. The events from last night don't even cross her mind, all she can think about is relieving the pain with an Advil. She stumbles to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and hastily swallowing a couple of the painkillers. On her way back to the bedroom, she checks in on her friend.

"You doing alright?" Lauren asks, peeking in to the guest room. Alexa lays in the bed, covers up to her neck and scrolling on her phone.

"Better than you apparently," Alexa laughs as she glances up at Lauren who looks so fucking out of it.

"Yeah, because you puked it all up last night," Lauren sighs.

"Sorry you didn't get to go home with that girl you were all up on last night. She was cute."

The moment Alexa says that, the drunken memories from last night at the club rush back into Lauren's head. Oh yeah, FUCK, she ran into Camila at the bar and made out with her.

Lauren's eyes widen and she becomes flustered. "O-Oh yeah, that happened," she mutters sheepishly, returning to her bedroom before Alexa can make another comment. Checking her phone, her terror is washed away by relief when she sees that her texts to Camila last night weren't TOO embarrassing. All is not lost.

Lauren: Holy shit. I'm sorry about last night haha I was very drunk and I apologize

Camila: There's nothing to be sorry for Lauren. I don't regret anything and I hope you don't either. You aren't my therapist anymore- you're my friend. I still want to pick up where we left off if you're on the same page as me

Lauren: Okk I was just worried about overstepping some boundaries but I'm glad I didn't! We're definitely on the same page. I have to drop my friend off at the airport at 5 but I'd love to take you for sushi afterward? Say, 5:45?

Camila: It's a date :))))

Lauren: Perfect. I'll pick you up, send me your address.

"Hey I'm going to make an omelet, do you want one?" Alexa's offer startles Lauren. She caught her blushing at her phone in bed. "Someone's happy. Who are you texting? Oooooooh, is it that girl from last night?"

"Fuck off," Lauren rolls her eyes, but can't stop smiling. "Yeah, I'm down for an omelette, thanks dude."

"Mmm, get it Jauregui," Alexa smirks, moving out of the way right as Lauren attempts to chuck a sock at her.

After a delicious breakfast and a lot of teasing and questions from Alexa about Camila, Lauren finally says goodbye and drops her friend off at the airport. She makes a brief stop at her house to gussy up, and then drives over to the address that Camila sent her.

On the way to her date's house, she recognizes the neighborhood. The last time she drove through it was a little over a year ago at night, when she kidnapped and murdered Sofi. It's pretty fucked up but she still harbors no regrets regarding her actions. In fact, she's thankful for what she did. If she hadn't killed Sofi, she wouldn't have met Camila and fallen for her. Fate can be confusing at times but Lauren's unusual choice of a victim that night happened for a reason.

Pulling up into the driveway, Lauren also recognizes the house. The Cabello's were interviewed by several local news stations outside of it, and also hosted a fundraiser event here. It's a small, modest house—two stories tall with a small backyard and pool area. Camila is 24 years old and would probably be living on her own in an apartment if it hadn't been for the incident.

Camila exits her house, locking the door behind her and approaches Lauren's car with a jump in her step, clearly happy to see her. She wears a white cropped tank top and black high-waisted skinny jeans. This is the first time Lauren has seen her wearing a top that doesn't cover her arms. She can vaguely spot a couple scars on her wrists from a glance, and makes sure not to stare at them ever again.

"Hey Camz," Lauren grins as Camila takes a seat in the car, buckling her seatbelt.

"You remembered the nickname, impressive," Camila comments. "You were pretty drunk, I wasn't sure how much you were going to remember."

"You don't give me enough credit. I'd never forget," Lauren says with a smug smirk as she backs out of the driveway, heading toward her favorite sushi restaurant in Miami. "Do you like sushi? If not we can go somewhere else, it really doesn't matter to me."

"Sushi is great," Camila assures her. "Trust me, I am not picky. Put any unknown food items in front me when I'm hungry and I guarantee that I'll eat it without any second thought."

"Okay, great," Lauren breathes a sigh of relief. It's been a while since she has been on a real date with someone, she was afraid that she forgot how to do this thing. "Next time you can pick."

"Already anticipating a next time, huh? Someone's getting a little too cocky," Camila teases her.

"I-I mean only if you want to. No pressure. Like if you aren't—"

"I was just teasing you!" Camila punches Lauren's arm playfully, making her swerve slightly off the road. "Shit, I probably should not punch the person who is driving a huge metal block that could easily kill us both in an instant."

"You're fucking cute, you know that?" Lauren swoons, turning briefly to look at her date. Whether she is in sweats, a dress, or casual clothes like this, she is absolutely stunning. Lauren could stare at her for hours.

It's Camila's turn to blush. "I think you give me too much credit," she mumbles. In high school, she was the girl that no one knew. She kept to herself, ate lunch by herself, and never went to prom. When she went off to college, she shed the shy, awkward Karla and vowed to become more confident. And that is exactly what she did. Karla evolved to Camila, and all the boys loved her. Plus a lot of girls. A lot of the confidence was a "fake it until you make it" sort of situation. Her self-confidence issues have improved a lot since high school, but sometimes she still struggles. Like right now, with someone as gorgeous as Lauren constantly giving her compliments, she believes it is too good to be true.

With a scoff, Lauren shakes her head. "Definitely not. Have you seen yourself, Camz? Fucking adorable," she smiles. They pull into the parking lot of the sushi restaurant and head inside.

The date goes well. Really well. It's not like they're strangers—for an entire year, they saw each other every single week. This is just getting to know each other on a more personal basis. By the time they finish eating, they feel much more comfortable with one another. It's as if they hadn't met in therapy, and had been friends all along. Camila would never suspect the girl sitting across from her of murdering anyone. Not a fly, not ever her baby sister.

They only spent about 45 minutes eating and neither of them want to say goodbye to the other just yet.

"I know a really pretty place overlooking the beach that not many people know of. I go there a lot myself and I'd love to show you it," Lauren offers as she takes her credit card from the waitress after paying. She picks up both of their checks, knowing that Camila's financial situation is a bit tight and doesn't allow the girl to protest.

"That would be wonderful," Camila grins. They hop back in Lauren's car and drive to the spot.

It isn't far from Lauren's house. She discovered it on a walk one day and fell in love with the incredible scenery and view. It's a small hill behind a couple houses but not technically on any private property. As she told Camila, it has a perfect view of the ocean. They take a seat in the grass, Camila gazing at the view and Lauren gazing at Camila.

"You weren't lying. This is extraordinary," Camila retrieves her phone, snapping a couple pictures of the sunset. When the sky is that pretty, it's an obligation.

As Lauren watches Camila take several photos with her phone, she contemplates whether or not to make a move. She made a move last night, but she was drunk and so was Camila. This is the first date, would that be moving too fast? In her past experiences with dates, she wouldn't hesitate to kiss them or even have sex with them. For whatever reason, she's being extra careful with Camila. She doesn't want to blow this and scare her away.

Camila interrupts Lauren's contemplations. "Trying to decide whether you're going to kiss me again?"

Lauren averts her stare to the grass, scratching her neck and laughing nervously. This is so stupid, why is this girl her weakness? She's usually so confident. She's the one who normally dominates the relationship, and now she's fumbling over her words because of this small girl. As she responds with incoherent broken sentences and embarrassed mumbles, Camila sets her phone down, scooting closer to the older girl and removing all space between them. Lauren's nervous rambling is quieted by Camila's lips on hers, a repeat of last night.

She's sober this time though. The memories from the past night are hazy at best, but this will be etched clear in her mind for life. The feeling of Camila's soft lips moving against her own, the younger girl's teeth nibbling playfully on Lauren's bottom lip. Camila can sense the other girl's lips curling up into a smile as the kiss deepens.

Camila pulls away from the kiss right as Lauren leans in further. "Why did you stop?" Lauren opens her eyes, pouting slightly. She reaches out and slowly brushes Camila's bottom lip with her thumb. "I never want to stop kissing you."

"We'll never get anything done," Camila laughs, laying down in the grass staring up into the sky whose hue has become a dark purple.

"Fuck productivity," Lauren lays down beside her. Her hand locates the younger girl's and interlaces with it. They lay in the grass, talking about everything and nothing until any light in the sky is completely replaced by the stars.

The moon is full that night. Camila points to it. "The moon is so big tonight. Do you remember telling me that you'd become an astronaut just so you can give me the moon?"

Lauren blushes at the mention of her embarrassing drunken monologues. "Now that you bring it up, yeah. It's my favorite thing about the sky."

"Really? Even above the stars and the sun?" Camila inquires.

"Yeah, I don't really know why. It has a lot of fascinating qualities. Maybe because it's always there but in different versions. It can be bright and the biggest thing in the sky, or barely visible. It's very humanlike. Constantly waxing and waning, but it's beautiful in all of its many forms. And every person, just like the moon, has their dark side. Maybe because it'll outshine even the brightest stars," Lauren shrugs casually.

"Seems like you've thought this over a lot," the younger girl is intrigued by Lauren's mind. She'd listen to her talk about the moon for hours. "I've always been more of a sun person. Even on the hardest and longest days and night, you can't deny that the sun will rise the next day. Just like you told me... life goes on. The sun will come up again and it'll be a new day. A new chance. However you have successfully nudged me toward being more of a moon person."

"I don't know Camz, you've got some pretty damn good reasoning for being a sun person," Lauren turns to her with a smile. They lay there for a few more moments before Camila sits up.

"I think I should probably get back home. I told my mom I was just going out for some sushi, I don't want her getting worried," Camila stands up, brushing the grass and dirt off of her pants. It would be unusual for any 24 year old to be constantly monitored by their parents. It's understandable given the Cabello family's circumstances, though.

When Lauren pulls up to Camila's house, they share a quick kiss in the car goodbye and she watches to make sure that the younger girl makes it into her house safely. Driving away, Lauren affirms in her mind that she would be content never killing anyone again as long as she gets to be with her.

*****

Their relationship skyrocketed from there. On the third date, it became clear that Lauren and Camila were girlfriends. Lauren would go to bed each night dreaming of the other girl. Camila occupied every corner of her mind—she has never felt like this with any past girlfriends or boyfriends before. Compared to this, they were simply practice for the big thing. The real thing. It feels as if the universe had been rearranging itself in order for them to collide, and now that the collision has occurred, everything is how it is supposed to be.

The furthest they have gone is making out. They kiss for hours upon hours and spend quite a bit of time cuddling, but nothing more than that. Camila has expressed how she wants to take it slow, and Lauren respects this. Sometimes she gets rather sexually frustrated, but she can always take care of it herself. She's willing to make sacrifices to ensure her girlfriend's happiness.

Five months into the relationship, Camila wants to finally introduce Lauren to her parents. When they hang out, they go to various places in the city, the hill overlooking the beach, or to Lauren's house. Never to Camila's—she's been a little scared about how her parents will react. They are aware of the relationship, but Camila is scared that they won't approve when they meet the Cuban girl and force their daughter to stop seeing her. Which is completely irrational, who WOULDN'T like Lauren upon meeting her? Still, Camila is cautious.

Lauren has been to the Cabello residence plenty of times, from dropping off and picking up her girlfriend. She's only ever seen the outside. This will be her first time actually being invited inside. Standing on the doorsteps, she shuffles nervously with a bouquet of flowers in her hand. Tonight, she's dressed in a fitted black dress with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Meeting the parents of a significant other has always been a nerve-racking event for Lauren, whether it be a high school boyfriend or a college girlfriend. This is no different. In fact, the situation is even more unique. She will be facing the parents of the child she murdered. They will unknowingly let the murderer of their daughter to step into their household and eat dinner with them.

Lauren's sadistic desires are still present. They've been with her since middle school and haven't left since. Sometimes, she just wants to make someone suffer. Anyone. But she holds back and resists her urges, no matter how intense her needs become. She's invested in a PS4 and the violent video games that conservative mothers protest against in fear of their children growing up and becoming killers. It's nothing like killing for real, but it's enough for now. She is aware that with Camila as her girlfriend, she will never be able to hurt anyone just for the fun of it again, and she is prepared to make these sacrifices.

Camila's mother answers the door. Behind her, Lauren sees Camila pacing around the kitchen, cleaning up any loose trash. Putting on her most charismatic, likeable grin, she extends her hand to shake the older woman's. "Hi Mrs. Cabello, I'm Lauren! It's so nice to finally meet you, these are for you," she hands her the bouquet of flowers.

"Thank you Lauren, this is very sweet of you," Camila's mother accepts the flowers with a gracious smile. "You can call me Sinu."

Camila's father steps forward, shaking Lauren's hand. She imagines that before Sofi's disappearance, his handshakes would be full of vigor and energy. Now, they are almost weak and passive. "I'm Alejandro," he introduces himself. The last time Lauren saw the two of them was on TV, begging for the return of their daughter with teary eyes. They're not crying, but it's clear that they haven't recovered. They'll never fully recover.

"Come inside," Sinu moves aside, gesturing for Lauren to come in. She removes her shoes at the doorway and walks into the kitchen where Camila is nervously tending to the food.

"Hey Camz," Lauren greets her girlfriend who spins around and embraces her. She's doesn't think it's appropriate to call Camila pet names in front of her parents quite yet. The smell of the food from the kitchen reminds her of how her family's house would always smell. Now that she lives alone, her meals consist of simpler dishes like canned and boxed foods, so this is a throwback to her childhood. Peeking on the stove, she sees the food that the Cabello's have been preparing for her. "It smells delicious in here. Are these empanadas? They look spectacular."

"You sure know how to flatter," Alejandro laughs. "Yes, they are. They should be ready any minute, take a seat."

Lauren and Camila sit down next to each other at the dinner table. As Camila fidgets with her silverware, Lauren slides her hand into her girlfriend's to comfort her. She appears even more nervous than Lauren. Camila's fidgeting calms down, and she squeezes the older girl's hand.

While they wait for the food to be served, Lauren observes the surroundings of the dining room. Family portraits and pictures hang up on the wall: Alejandro and Sinu, school pictures of Camila from her younger years, what Lauren presumes to be Camila's senior pictures, photos of Sofi, and portraits of the entire family.

The only pictures of Sofi that circulated in the media were the most recent school pictures from the yearbook of her. These are from years before. There's a photo of Camila, probably 16 or 17 years old, holding a guitar and singing to a very young Sofi in their backyard. It really humanizes her former victim. Still, no regrets.

The empanadas are served with a side of arroz. Lauren takes a couple for her plate along with a small portion of rice, and waits for the Cabello's to serve themselves before digging in herself. She might be a serial killer, but she has table manners.

"So, Lauren, tell us more about yourself," Alejandro takes the first bite of food, signaling that it is okay for Lauren to start eating herself. The empanadas she used to eat at home were prepared with more of a Cuban style. These are more Mexican, but still tasty nonetheless. "You were mija's therapist if I recall correctly?"

"Yes," Lauren responds, unsure if this is accusatory. Would it be appropriate for a therapist to date their client? Yes, very. But Camila no longer goes to therapy.

Camila also catches on to the potential accusatory undertones of her father's question. "We didn't start seeing each other until three months after I stopped going."

"Not trying to imply anything. I'm sure Lauren is a wonderful therapist," Alejandro smiles at Lauren, yet she still feels his suspicions.

"Tell us about your family," Sinu changes the topic as she bites into her empanada.

"I have a younger sister and brother. Chris is 23 and just graduated from University of Miami, Taylor is 20 and is going to University of Florida," Lauren tells them. "My parents raised us in Miami but when Taylor went away to college, they moved to Palm Beach to retire."

The rest of the night continues like this. Sinu and Alejandro ask questions in order to learn more about their daughter's girlfriend. At times, it feels more like an interrogation or a test than a friendly dinner. The topic of Sofi is never brought up, and Lauren is sure if she even mentioned the name everything would uncontrollably snowball into awkwardness. She answers all of the questions with a polite smile, and at the end of the meal, Camila's parents are satisfied. Perhaps not pleased, but also not disgusted. Of course they would be suspicious of anyone Camila dates. They're probably scared that she will whisk their daughter away in the night and make her disappear, just like their other daughter.

"Thank you so much for the dinner," Lauren thanks Camila's parents before the two of them head upstairs to her room. It feels like she is in high school again, meeting her teenage girlfriend's parents. She half expects Sinu to come up the stairs and force them to keep the door open and give Lauren a time she needs to be out of the house.

The minute they shut the door and it is just the two of them alone again, all of the tension fades. Camila pulls Lauren onto her bed and they diffuse any of the stress caused by the night. "I'm sorry they were badgering you," Camila pants between the quick kisses. "They don't trust anyone with me."

"Shhh, it's ok baby, you don't need to apologize," Lauren moves her kisses to Camila's jaw, and then her neck, eliciting soft moans from the younger girl. As she does this, she wonders if anyone else has touched her girlfriend in this exact spot, feeling slightly jealous even though that is in the past.

"I bought a movie the other day that looks really interesting, do you want to watch it?" Camila pulls away from Lauren's touches to retrieve a DVD sitting on her desk. "You might have heard about it. It's called 'Her', it's about this guy who falls in love with his computer. Apparently it's really good."

"That sounds great, put it in," Lauren smiles at Camila, hiding her frustration about their make out session being interrupted. Throughout the night, whenever she would feel stressed from Sinu and Alejandro's questions, she would look over at her beautiful girlfriend and feel okay. She would want to grab her face and kiss her—fuck her parents. Of course, she knew better than to do that. It's whatever, though. They can kiss later, and if her parents were to walk in on them making out, who knows how they would react?

As Camila crosses the room to insert the DVD into the player, Lauren takes in the surroundings of her girlfriend's room. It appears she has lived in this room since childhood. The walls are pink, and she can imagine posters of boy bands filling the empty spaces during her adolescence. Now, the walls are filled with polaroids and memories. A photo of her and Sofi is framed above the desk. And a selfie of her and Lauren sits in a frame on her desk. It's from one of their first dates, when they went to an aquarium.

"I love that photo of us," Lauren comments. Camila follows her eyes to see what picture she is talking about too.

"Me too. That's why I framed it," Camila smiles, hitting play on the DVD, turning off the lights and crawling back onto the bed with her girlfriend. The two of them snuggle close together as the movie starts.

At the beginning, Lauren pays more attention to her girlfriend than the movie. She listens to her breaths, watches her expressions out of the corner of her eye. But soon the movie draws her in too. It's a beautiful, tragic tale of a man falling in love with his OS. Filled with quotes that are funny and quotes that are insightful, this is a movie that leaves you thinking when it's done.

One particular scene sticks out for both of them. It's when the main character and his OS are together in a cabin, singing a song called "The Moon Song." Ever since their first date where they stared up at the moon, it's been a staple of their relationship. A symbol. Camila will always point out the moon, and Lauren will tell her girlfriend how gorgeous she looks in the moonlight and kiss her. One time, as Camila fell asleep outside under the stars, Lauren sketched a sleeping Camila on top of the moon. Sure, it's cheesy as fuck, but they love it. Copying Khal Drogo's quote to Daenerys Targaryen in Game of Thrones, Camila is the moon of Lauren's life. Hearing a song like this will etch this moment and movie into their memories forever.

"I'm lying on the moon  
My dear, I'll be there soon  
It's a quiet starry place  
Time's we're swallowed up  
In space we're here a million miles away

There's things I wish I knew  
There's no thing I keep from you  
It's a dark and shiny place  
But with you my dear  
I'm safe and we're a million miles away

We're lying on the moon  
It's a perfect afternoon  
Your shadow follows me all day  
Making sure that I'm okay and  
We're a million miles away"

As the song plays, Lauren pulls Camila closer to her, kissing her gently on the lips. It doesn't progress farther than that one kiss—they both want to listen to the song and the lyrics. But she couldn't resist.

When the song finishes, Lauren kisses Camila once more. "Learn this song so we can duet it, babe," she whispers into her ear.

"Of course," Camila responds, stroking her girlfriend's hair.

The ending of the movie fucks them up. Camila is the one to start crying first, and that sets Lauren off. Soon they're messes, sobbing into each other's bodies. It takes about twenty minutes after the credits roll for the two off them to compose themselves.

"I swear that IMDB said it was a comedy," Camila wipes her tears away, handing Lauren a tissue to do the same.

"Comedy my fucking ass. That shit hurt," Lauren sighs. They lay on the bed in the darkness and silence for a bit, simply enjoying each other's company.

"Do you believe in fate?" Camila asks out of nowhere.

"I believe that things happen for a reason. But I also believe that fate is fluid. We make our own decisions and control our own destinies. If that makes sense," Lauren responds. "What about you?"

"Do you think we would have met if Sofi hadn't..." Camila doesn't really answer Lauren's question, instead posing her with a more difficult one. One that Lauren has always had a very strong answer to, but knows that she can't give her that answer without upsetting her.

"I.. I don't know, Camz. There's no way to know for sure. Maybe we would have run into each other regardless, maybe not. But we're here now and we can't worry ourselves about how the past unfolded or how the future is going to unfold, you know?" Lauren bullshits a response.

"You're the best part of my life, Lauren. I know dependency is a bad thing but I honestly cannot imagine where I would be right now without you. Ever since I met you, even on that first day of therapy where I wouldn't say more than ten words to you, you had this comforting presence. You made me laugh and feel human for the first time since Sofi disappeared. I began to look forward to Tuesdays and Fridays because I would be like, okay, these are the days I will be okay. For an hour on those days, I'm going to heal, thanks to Lauren," Camila spills her feelings.

"It wasn't me though, babe. It was you. Only you can make your own steps to recovery. I was just there to help you along the way," Lauren shrugs.

"And I wouldn't have made it without you. Sometimes at night I can't sleep because all I can think about is, would I have met you if Sofi hadn't disappeared? What if I hadn't been drinking that night, what if I had gone and picked Sofi up and she would still be here with me today? You wouldn't be here. If I could go back in time and do that night over again, there are so many things I would change but I know that I'd return to the present and you would be gone. Then I give myself imaginary ultimatums. Get Sofi back, but never meet Lauren again. And of course I would choose my little sister in a heartbeat. If things do happen for a reason, I don't think that taking my baby sister away from me was reason enough for me to meet someone as incredible as you. This rant is making me sound insane isn't it?" Camila sighs, realizing that she probably isn't making any sense. "The only way I can get to sleep at night is that maybe fate is real and we were always destined to meet, regardless of what happened to Sofi. If she was never taken on that night, maybe I would meet you at the grocery store, or at the club like we did that one night. I've started to really believe it, too."

"I hope, in any alternate reality, we are together," is the only way Lauren can think to respond to Camila's musings, a little confused about the point she is trying to get across.

Camila can sense her confusion. She is a little lost herself. "What I'm trying to say is that I love you and that I'm glad you're here. I don't think the universe is cruel enough to present me with an ultimatum like that, and I think that we were always fated to meet no matter the choices we made in life."

That's the first time either of them have said it out loud. I love you. Both of them have had it on their minds for a long time. This is just the first time that either of them have vocalized it. Lauren's confused frown turns into a smile. "I love you too, Camz."

Camila climbs on top of Lauren, closing the distance between of them and meeting their lips together. Neither of them will ever get tired of kissing the other. Tonight, Camila wants to take it all the way. She lifts her shirt over her head and tosses it across the room as Lauren ogles at her girlfriend's body. The younger girl wears only a white lace bra, and she watches as she awkwardly pulls her skinny jeans off her legs. There's no way anyone can step out of skinny jeans in a sexy manner.

"Wait, babe, what about your parents?" Lauren frowns. "We can go to my house..."

"No, I need you now," Camila successfully finishes removing her pants, then begins to work on taking Lauren's dress off of her body. "We just need to be quiet. They're downstairs, they'll never hear."

"Are you sure?" Lauren aids Camila in undressing her. The two of them are now only in their lingerie. In contrast to her girlfriend's lingerie, Lauren's is black lace. Camila doesn't respond, as she is too busy appreciating her girlfriend's body.

"Yes, I'm sure," Camila gives her a firm nod, straddling her waist and leaning down to kiss her. "You've given me so much. I want to give you this."

"I don't want this to feel like an obligation, Camz," Lauren moans as Camila trails her kisses down from her mouth to her breasts that are freed when her bra is unhooked in one swift motion.

"It's not an obligation at all," Camila slides Lauren's panties off of her legs. She now lays completely naked under Camila. "Now shut up and let me make you cum."

From Camila's slightly reserved demeanor, no one would ever guess how much of a fucking top she is. This girl knows what she's doing. The female body is no unfamiliar territory for her. She takes her time with the foreplay to get Lauren wet—she kisses her breasts, sucking each of her nipples until they are swollen. Her touches are slow and teasing. By the time she is down to the older girl's legs and kissing her inner thighs, she can already smell the wetness.

She could rush this. She could thrust three fingers into Lauren's pussy and rub her clit until she cums all over the bed and get it over pretty fast. That isn't how she imagined her first time with this special girl, though. With every kiss and motion, she goes slow. There is no need to rush this, she wants to savor the moment. Make this extra special for the both of them. If they wanted a quick orgasm, they could do themselves. Sex isn't masturbating with each other's body. The point of sex is to pleasure the other, give them the full experience. So that is exactly what Camila is doing.

Lauren wants to be fucked so badly. She squirms under Camila's touch—she swears that the younger girl has been teasing her with kisses for a half hour already. When her girlfriend finally reaches her legs, she kisses her way back up to her mouth and starts the process all over again. If her goal was to make Lauren horny as fuck, it's working. She's horny enough to fuck anything that breathes right now.

"Camz... please... touch me," Lauren begs, her raspy voice cracking with neediness. "I need you..."

"What do you want me to do?" Camila smirks. Maybe it's a little mean to tease her THIS much, but she's reveling in the moment.

"Fuck me... please..."

"Well, since you asked nicely," Camila inserts a finger into her center. It's so soaking that it could easily slip right out. "Damn, Lauren, you're wet."

Maybe one finger would be okay if Camila had man hands and huge fingers. But unfortunately her hands are smaller than Lauren's as well as her fingers. Her finger is thinner than a tampon and this only teases the older girl harder. "More, please baby," Lauren continues to beg. She's never begged for anyone like this before. Camila's effect on her is like none other.

The younger girl inserts another finger. Her middle and ring fingers curl up into Lauren's soaking wet center in a "come hither" motion, hitting her g-spot. Lauren bucks her hips and moans loudly, a little too loudly. Camila slaps her hand over her girlfriend's mouth, stifling her moans with her palm.

"Shhhhhh, you don't want my parents to walk in," Camila whispers softly to her as she continues to thrust her fingers inside of her. "You have to be quiet, understand?"

She only removes her hand when Lauren weakly nods. Despite her agreement to be quiet, quiet whimpers still slip out of her lips. She can't control them.

Camila kisses her way down to Lauren's legs and spreads them. As she continues to use one hand to pleasure her girlfriend's core, she uses the other to play with her clit that is very aroused. With her thumb, she applies light pressure to the small thing. This is how she learns how sensitive Lauren's clit is. From that small motion, Lauren moans loud enough that it's possible her parents heard from downstairs.

"This won't do," Camila shakes her head with a sigh. She retreats her hand and Lauren is afraid that they're going to stop there. They can't stop there, Camila has her wrapped around her finger.

"Wait, no, I'll be quiet I swear to god," Lauren sits up and pouts as she watches Camila rummaging through her closet. A minute later, Camila turns around, holding a bandana.

"Yeah, you will be quiet," Camila returns to the bed, tying the bandana lightly around her mouth to use as a makeshift gag. Now any sound she makes will be easily stifled. Spreading Lauren's legs again, Camila continues where she left out.

With her tongue, she applies more light pressure onto her clit while thrusting her fingers into her. The more pressure, the more Lauren moans from under the bandana gag, and the more her legs quiver with pleasure.

Camila begins to trace the alphabet using her tongue on Lauren's clit. It's one of her little tricks that has never failed to make a girl finish. From under the gag, Lauren moans what Camila presumes to be curse words and maybe her name.

Occasionally Camila likes to look up from her spot between her girlfriend's legs, and the sight is beautiful. Lauren watches her going down with a needy, desperate look in her eyes. She begins to move her tongue faster and harder, and in response hears the older girl's breathing become quicker and shallower. She must be close.

"Are you close, baby?" Camila glances up to see Lauren nodding, begging for her to finish her off. Without any mercy, she resumes her tongue's contact with her girlfriend's clit, licking as fast and hard as she was before she stopped.

Thank god for the bandana. Lauren practically screams from under it as her hips buck and cum fills her girlfriend's mouth. Her eyes roll back with pleasure. She swears she hasn't climaxed this hard in years, not even on her own. Camila watches with amusement as Lauren grips the sheets and nearly tears them off of the bed. As she comes down from her orgasm, the younger girl removes the bandana that successfully stifled all of her screams.

"I... Holy.. shit.." Lauren whispers, her voice even more raspy than usual from all the moaning. Her head is light, the room is spinning, her entire body tingles, and she can't form a coherent sentence or thought to save her life. "You... oh my god..."

Wiping her mouth off to clean away the fluids from her girlfriend, Camila gathers the clothes that are strewn around the room. After dressing herself, she folds Lauren's clothes neatly beside her as she comes down from her high.

Lauren eyes her clothing, confused as to why she is being ushered out. That orgasm was fucking spectacular, and now she needs to give Camila one of equal value. All she wants to do is fuck all night and all day. She's never had a sexual partner who shares as much chemistry with her as the Cabello girl. "It's your turn, Camz," she frowns, pushing the clothes away from her.

"To be continued.. It's a miracle my parents didn't come upstairs yet to check on us or kick you out. It'd be best to avoid any awkward experiences with them to make them dislike you," Camila flicks the light switch by the door. In the dark, her girlfriend's body was amazing. Now that it's in clear light, it's even more wondrous. It's a shame to not be able to indulge in more of life's pleasantries right now, like Lauren Jauregui's fine as hell body, but Camila figures they'll have plenty of time for that later.

Knowing that protesting will get her nowhere, with a resigned sigh, Lauren dresses herself in the underwear and clothing she had been previously wearing. Although she was unable to return the favor, this is a big step for their relationship.

"Tomorrow?" Lauren raises her eyebrows with a hopeful grin.

"Tomorrow," Camila confirms. She walks the girl out to her car, giving her a quick kiss goodnight and watching her drive away.

*****

"I think this is the last one," Camila sets a box on top of a short pile in Lauren's living room. They have been together for just about a year now, and Lauren asked her to move in. This means it's serious. Sinu and Alejandro were hesitant at first, but after the first dinner with Lauren, they grew to like her more. It's not like she's moving across the state or across the country. They knew they couldn't hold on to their daughter forever. It was time to let her go live her own life.

"Are you sure you have everything? Clothes, toiletries, things from your room...." Sinu inspects the stack of boxes.

"Yes," Camila assures her. "I'm only a twenty minute drive away, Mom. We can still visit whenever you want."

"I know that, mija," Sinu pulls her daughter into a tight embrace. "It's just hard as a mother. You'll know one day."

Alejandro hugs Camila goodbye next. It really shouldn't be a big deal though, she's right across the city. "Call us if you ever need anything, ok mija?"

"Of course, I love you papi," she sighs.

Her parents turn to Lauren, who stands at the doorway watching the exchange. "Take good care of our Camila," Alejandro tells her.

"She is safe with me," Lauren walks over to her girlfriend, taking her by the hand and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. Hugging both of the Cabello parents goodbye, she watches with Camila out the window as they pull out of the driveway. Turning to the shorter girl, she smirks. "Just you and me now."

"Shall we have a little... housewarming celebration?" Camila suggests.

Arching an eyebrow, Lauren responds, "What do you have in mind?"

Camila stands on her toes to whisper into her girlfriend and new roommate's ear. "Let's fuck. In every room."

And so they do. Lauren eats Camila out on the kitchen counter. Camila fingers Lauren on the sofa in the living room. The dining room, the guest room, and the office space upstairs. They take turns until they finally collapse, exhausted on Lauren's bed about five hours later.

"Holy. Shit," Lauren pants. Both of them are naked and covered in sweat. She swears she won't be able to walk for at least a week after this.

"We aren't done yet babe," Camila rolls on top of Lauren, the two of them kissing lazily on top of the messy bed.

Lauren mentally runs through all of the rooms in her house. Their house. After going through the list two times, she furrows her eyebrows. "We hit all of them, Camz. From the bottom up."

"Don't you have a basement?"

Oh yeah. Shit. A while ago, Lauren vaguely mentioned having a basement. It's amazing that Camila remember that. Except not really surprising—Camila remembers everything, even small details like that. As far as Lauren is concerned, even if they live in this house until they are 90 with great-grandchildren, Camila will never EVER step foot in the basement. That is where she carried out all of her murders. That is where Sofi took her last breath. Lauren herself hasn't even been down there since killing the younger Cabello. Her collection of knives reside there, along with the bloody table that she never bothers to clean. The whole room reeks of death.

It's such a hazard for guests to stumble upon that Lauren took it upon herself to learn how to customize a door to lock from the outside. It was a month long project, but finally she rendered the basement unreachable without a key kept in a place only she knows.

"Ohh yeah, that shit is nasty though. Like, I'm 99% sure that if we went down there we'd get some type of bacterial disease and die. I haven't gone down there since I first moved into this house and vowed to never step down there again," Lauren shudders. She's always been a good liar.

Camila doesn't question her story. "Shame. Maybe we can get someone to fix that up one day," she gives Lauren one more kiss before rolling off of her.

"Maybe," Lauren says with a false tone of hopefulness. If she has to buy a new house to prevent Camila from ever discovering what is down there, so be it.

But for now, she isn't worried about the basement. Camila changes the topic and they chat before drifting off to sleep, exhaustion taking over their bodies from all the vigorous sex.

*****

CRASH.

The sound of a metal pot clattering onto the floor from the kitchen is loud enough to wake both Camila and Lauren from their slumber. Glancing over at the clock, it read 3:30 AM. They don't have a pet. They didn't leave any windows open.

"Nnnn.... did you hear that?" Lauren asks groggily, blinking the sleepiness out of her eyes. It's too early in the morning for this. Or late at night.

"Yeah..." Camila sits up, rubbing her eyes.

BAM. Another crash. Loud footsteps alert them that this isn't their imagination, and it certainly isn't a nightmare.

"Fuck, someone's here," Lauren jumps out of the bed, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She's wide awake now. "Someone broke in. Camz, you have to hide."

Camila is attempting to open their bedroom window to no avail. "No, we have to run, call the police and run," she struggles with lifting it, cursing under her breath. "Fuck, fuck, why won't this open?!"

"If you jump you're going to break something. I took a martial arts class in college, just hide in the closet or something," Lauren instructs her. She used to sleep with a knife under her pillow out of the paranoia of something like this happening. When Camila moved in a month ago, that was no longer a good idea. She moved the knife to a drawer in the guest room down the hall.

"No, Lauren, just call the police, please," Camila begs, tugging on her girlfriend's arm. She's terrified of losing her.

"JUST FUCKING DO WHAT I SAY," Lauren yells at Camila, pushing her off of her arm. Now Camila is not only scared about the intruder downstairs, but also of her girlfriend. They get in the occasional arguments, but nothing ever too serious. It always ends with them laughing about what they were fighting about. Or make-up sex. This is the first time that she has ever witnessed Lauren so angry with her.

She doesn't do well with people yelling at her. She never has. When she was a kid and her parents would yell at her, she would shut down and stop arguing. This isn't any exception. Camila blinks tears out of her eyes, rushing into the nearby closet and closing it. Lauren sighs, making a mental note to apologize to her girlfriend about her outburst.

The intruder probably heard their arguing and scampering around upstairs. There isn't much time before they make their way up the stairs to investigate. Odds are, they're armed. Whether with a gun or a knife, no one breaks into a house unarmed. Lauren sneaks over to the guest room, retrieving the knife she used to sleep with for security.

Clutching it so hard that her knuckles turn white, Lauren creeps down the stairs with caution. She peeks around the corner to spot the perpetrator rummaging through the cabinets in the living room for valuables. It's a male. He wears a black hoodie, black pants, black gloves, and black shoes, as if he is trying to be like A from Pretty Little Liars. In one of his hands, he holds a pistol. A knife versus a pistol. Unless she's extra fast, the odds are not in her favor. She's never tried throwing knives, and if she were to throw and miss, that would also be a one way ticket to death.

Lauren takes quiet steps until she is about ten feet away from the man. That's when she accidentally steps on a creaky floorboard, alerting him of her presence.

He turns around rapidly, gun aimed at her head, finger over the trigger. "Drop the knife! Drop the fucking knife or I'll shoot!"

God, he's ugly. Brown hair, small eyes, big lips, looks like a Dorito. Disgusting.

"You're going to fucking shoot even if I drop the knife," Lauren protests. Fuck, Camila was right. She should have hid with her, or jumped out of the window and fled. She didn't even call the fucking police! What kind of genius plan was this?

"I'm giving you to the count of three. One..."

"The neighbors are going to hear the gunshot and catch you. Put the gun away and leave and I won't call the cops," Lauren attempts to reason with him.

"Bullshit. Two..."

His grip tightens on the pistol and she knows it's now or never. Lunge for him and get shot, or stay still and get shot. Drop the knife, probably still get shot. Option A is looking the brightest. All of her muscles in her body prepare for the attack, the scene playing out in slow motion.

"Lauren, get him!!!" Camila's voice yells from the back of the room. She must have decided against hiding and wanted to help take down the intruder.

It's enough to distract him so if he takes a shot, it probably won't be fatal. Lauren pounces at the man with her knife, penetrating his stomach with the blade. At the same time, the deafening crack of a gunshot causes everyone's ears in the room to ring. Camila screams her lungs out. It's like a scene straight out of a dramatic TV show.

Blood splatters on the floor and it's a blur. Camila can't tell which blood is coming from what body. But in the end of the whole mess, Lauren is the one who is standing and the intruder is the one who lays on the floor, motionless. The gun drops out of his hand.

She notices a dark red circle growing and staining Lauren's right shoulder area. Fuck, the bullet hit her for sure. It doesn't look like a fatal spot.

"LAUREN, OH MY GOD," Camila screams for her girlfriend as soon as it processes in her head that she was shot. Lauren doesn't hear her. She kneels over the man's incapacitated body, stabbing his chest, stomach, and neck over and over again with the knife. His blood squirts everywhere, sickening groans and gargling noises coming from his throat. "Lauren, stop, he's dead!"

Lauren drives the knife into his eye socket, twisting it and then letting the handle go. She stands up slowly, her left hand clutching the spot on her shoulder where the bullet entered. Turning to face Camila, this is an image the younger girl will never forget.

She's covered in blood. Blood on her face, blood on her t-shirt, and blood on her legs. Camila is positive that it's a mixture of both her own blood and his. But mostly his. The features of her face are barely distinguishable through all of the blood, except her green eyes. Those will always stick out.

But the most disturbing part? She was smiling when she stood up. Not a weak smile, a sheepish smile, or a smile of someone who thinks they're about to die because they just got shot. This was a triumphant smile. A smile of someone who is happy about what just happened. Some might call it a serial killer smile.

It sends shivers up Camila's spine.

Lauren is lost in the moment. For those few minutes, she forgets that she is supposed to be Lauren Jauregui, innocent girlfriend who could never hurt anyone. Not Lauren Jauregui, psychotic sadistic serial killer who gets off on people suffering at her hands. It's been too long since she's had a high like this.

When she witnesses Camila's horrified expression at her, she comes back to reality. She has to play the innocent girlfriend again.

Warm tears flood her eyes, and Lauren collapses onto her knees, sobbing on the ground. Camila rushes over to her, holding her girlfriend as she weeps on the ground. She called the police before sneaking downstairs. Cops barge into the house, witnessing the sickening scene that has unfolded.

Camila experiences the next hour in a true blur. She remembers fragments. The ambulances arriving. Paramedics shuttling her girlfriend away on one gurney, and the intruder on another. The only difference is that his is covered with a sheet, signifying that he is dead. Cops question her about what happened. She's transported to the police station for further questioning, telling the same story to five different people. Her parents arrive at the police station, hugging their baby girl and asking if she's okay.

Lauren has to undergo emergency surgery for the gunshot wound. It goes without any complications, and the most she will have is a small scar on her shoulder. She has to stay in the hospital for a few days, and Camila sits beside her bed the entire time. Cops enter the room occasionally to ask Lauren questions.

The day following the incident, a sheriff entered their room and reported that the man who broke into their house was someone named Austin Mahone. 25 years old, and has been suspected of multiple break-ins around the city. He's also suspected to be responsible for the death of one family whose house he broke into as well.

For the first week, the image of her girlfriend's twisted smile standing over Austin's dead body haunts her in both her sleep and when she's awake. After a while she pushes it away though. She had just gotten shot, it must have been a weird psychological reaction. Lauren apologizes profusely for yelling at Camila that night, and also for how she kept attacking Austin when he was clearly dead. She said she barely remembers it, the adrenaline from the break-in and the shock from being shot clouded her perception. Camila forgives her, and moves on. It's the only thing they can do.

*****

Three months have passed since the break-in, and it's nothing but a distant memory. The bloodstains in the floor are long gone, the damage is fixed. And now, a diamond ring resides on Camila's finger.

That's right, Lauren proposed. She couldn't imagine living her life with anyone else except Camila. During their one-week vacation to Hawaii, she presented the ring to her on the beach. Camila didn't even hesitate for one second to answer. It was a yes.

Lauren Cabello. Camila Jauregui. They were still deciding on which one to go with. Both sounded lovely. The one thing they agreed on? No hyphenated surnames. No Lauren Cabello-Jauregui...that was never an option and never will be an option for them.

They plan to have their wedding in four months in Miami. It will be medium-sized—not too small, but also not too large that they're inviting meaningless acquaintances. They plan to invite their closest friends from high school and college along with their relatives.

"Hey babe, I'm going to go pick up the wedding invitations. Do you want to come?" Lauren asks, peeking into their bedroom. Camila sits at the desktop with one headphone in, scrolling through Tumblr and Pinterest to find wedding dress ideas.

"Nah, I'm looking for dress ideas," Camila politely declines. It's not like she's never going to see the invitations. In fact, she'll probably see too much of them. Lauren is going to return home with them and when she does, they'll have to prepare the envelopes for every single person they're inviting. Fun.

"Alright well I'll be about 30 minutes or an hour, depending on how busy they are," Lauren walks over to her and gives her a quick peck on the lips.

"See ya soon," Camila smiles at her.

Once Lauren has pulled out of the driveway, Camila shuts her laptop. In a wedding magazine a few weeks ago, she found a dress she found absolutely beautiful and ideal for her. She hid it somewhere in the guest room so Lauren couldn't find it, and wants to take another look at it to compare it to a dress she just found on Pinterest.

Entering the guest room, she searches the shelves of the closet. Her memory must be failing her slightly, she could have sworn that she left it in there somewhere. Failing to find it in there, she moves her search to the bedside table.

Opening the top drawer, she sees the same knife that Lauren used to kill Austin that one night a few months ago. With a shudder, she shuts it. Keeping a knife for protection isn't a bad idea at all—she probably has it hidden in here to avoid any bad memories resurfacing for either of them.

Closing the top drawer quickly, Camila opens the bottom drawer. A small black book is hidden in the back corner. That's strange. Maybe it's a diary? She shouldn't snoop, but curiosity gets the best of her. If it's a literature book that interests her, she'd definitely want to read. If it's Lauren's diary, she'll close it and put it back where it's supposed to be.

When she sees the first page, she's thoroughly confused. It's a list of names. Beside each name is a number and a date. Some of these names are strangely familiar. Racking her brain for where she recognizes them from, she remembers that they are names from the media. Names of people who disappeared and were never found again.

Turning the page, a key falls out of the page onto the floor and she sees a name that makes her feel sick to her stomach. She has an awful feeling what this book is when she reads that name and the date. Below that is another name and date, all too familiar.

"25. Brad Simpson, 04/22/2021  
26\. James McVey, 06/09/2021  
27\. Sofia Cabello, 10/28/2021  
28\. Austin Mahone, 01/03/2024"

October 28, 2021. That's the day Camila replayed in her mind for years. The day that changed her life. The day that her little sister disappeared.

January 3, 2024. That's the day of the break-in. The day Lauren killed that Austin Mahone man.

With sickening nausea expanding in her stomach, Camila takes out her phone and googles a couple of the names. Each of them matches up with the day that they disappeared. And she has a feeling about where this key will lead her.

Camila opens the top drawer, pocketing the knife just in case. Clutching the book in one hand and the key in the other, she proceeds down the stairs and to the door of the dreaded basement Lauren would never let her look in.

Just as she suspects, the key fits perfectly. The knob turns, and for the first time, she descends into the dark basement.

It smells bad, but not like the smell Lauren was describing. It smells like death. Literal death.

Camila uses her phone flashlight to illuminate her the room until she finds a light switch. When she turns the light on and takes in her surroundings, her nausea spikes and she vomits on the floor.

It's exactly what she dreaded. From the moment she saw her sister's name in Lauren's handwriting in Lauren's book, a part of her knew that this was going to be what she would find. After she finishes throwing up, Camila has to lean on the wall for support. The room spins, she feels light headed like she's going to pass out.

It's a fucking torture chamber. In the center of the room is a table, covered in blood stains. Knives sit on a desk across from the table, along with a bandana and some ropes. A plastic tub sits on the other side of the room with a jug labeled "Hydrofluoric Acid" by it. Camila doesn't need any more evidence. Her gut knows the answer no matter how hard she wants to be wrong.

This is where 27 people were brutally murdered. This is where her sister died.

It's surreal. She could never imagine Lauren would ever have the capacity to commit such heinous crimes. Her girlfriend... no, not her girlfriend anymore. Her FIANCEE, Lauren. The girl who didn't want to kill a spider. The girl who works as a therapist to improve people's lives. The girl who helped put her back together at her darkest time in life.

This can't be happening. No. It's just a nightmare. She's going to wake up in Lauren's arms. She's going to go check the drawers in the guest room and find nothing. And one day she'll go downstairs in the basement and puke not because it's a torture chamber, but because it really is fucking musty down there!

It's not a nightmare though. No matter how tight Camila shuts her eyes and prays to wake up from the horrors, it doesn't work.

"Camzzz babe, I'm home with the invitations! They look fucking great, come down here, you have to see them," Lauren calls for Camila. Gripping the book with the list, she walks up the stairs, unsure how she is going to react when she sees Lauren's face.

Lauren stands in the hallway, stomach dropping when she watches the basement door open. Camila's face is emblazoned with anger. Her jaw is clenched, her eyebrows are furrowed, and she looks like she is ready to kill someone. Lauren spots her black book that Camila clenches. Oh fuck.

"I—I can explain, Camz, just... just put that down and we can sit down and talk," Lauren stammers. For the first time in her life, she is the one who is terrified. Not her victims. Not Camila. She is at the disadvantage, and she isn't used to that.

Camila explodes. She hurls the book at Lauren's head, hitting her right above her eyebrow, causing her to flinch in pain. "You have NOTHING to fucking explain, I figured it all out. You. Fucking. Murdered. My. SISTER," she retrieves the knife she pocketed earlier.

Lauren raises her hands, slowly backing away from her angry fiancee. With every step backward she takes, Camila takes two steps forward. She wouldn't really stab her, right? She'll put the knife down and talk it out. She has to.

"Camz, baby, please, listen to yourself. Look at yourself. Set the knife down and I'll explain everything, okay?" Lauren tries negotiating, but with every word she speaks, it only seems to make Camila angrier.

So angry that she starts crying. "I am NOT Camz to you. I am NOT your fucking baby either. You are NOTHING to me," Camila shakes her head, her voice rising.

Taking another step back, Lauren hits a wall. Shit, now she's cornered for real. Camila closes the distance so they are mere inches apart. Just as she expected, Camila doesn't drive the blade through her skin. She simply stares her down with anger, trying to figure out her next move.

It happens in an instant. Balling her left hand into a fist, Camila connects it with Lauren's nose, resulting in a disgusting crack and blood spurting down her face. "FUCKING HELL," Lauren curses, hands covering her likely-broken nose.

"You... I..." Camila struggles with translating her emotions into words. "I FUCKING TRUSTED YOU. I trusted you with EVERYTHING, but from DAY FUCKING ONE it was you. I walked into your office and you KNEW that you killed my fucking sister. You sat there with your fucking fake sympathetic smile. I bet you were so fucking pleased with yourself when you got me to open up. I cried in front of you about Sofi. I spilled EVERYTHING that I couldn't tell anyone else, not even my parents, not even my closest friends. And then... all of those moments together... all of our dates... everything... through EVERY SINGLE MOMENT, you KNEW. YOU. FUCKING. KNEW. Did you get off on the fact that you were dating the sister of an innocent little girl who you KILLED? Or was this just some sick, twisted, drawn out scheme? Make me fall in love with you. Marry me. Then kill me when I least expect it. Oh my god, I fucking KNEW something was off when I saw your twisted little smile after you killed the intruder. You're fucking SICK."

"Camila... I..."

"No, you don't get to fucking speak. I don't even know what to do with you," Camila takes a deep breath, pondering what she should do. If she kills Lauren, she gets off easy. She at least needs some answers first. "Why Sofi. Why my little sister. What did she ever do to you?"

"I... My victims were random. Completely random. It was a wrong place, wrong time sort of thing. If they were alone and I was in... the mood.. I'd grab them. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time that night. It could have been anyone else," Lauren answers. This angers Camila enough to punch her in the nose again, more of the crimson liquid flowing out of her nostrils as she groans in pain.

"You sick fuck. They were PEOPLE that you killed. People with families and friends who wept over their disappearance. Did you ever ONCE feel bad, ever? When you would see the aftermath? When you saw how fucking devastated I was?"

Lauren could lie, but at this point, she feels like she's in too deep. She owes this girl the truth for once. "No, I didn't. I didn't regret anything and I don't regret anything. Watching people suffer was pleasing to me. They're urges I had trouble controlling. But listen to me. My feelings for you? They were real. I wasn't lying when I said that I love you. Camila, I'd still give you the moon, even after all this. You are, always have been, and always will be my everything. Please put the knife down and... and we'll figure this out. You aren't going to hurt me, and I'm not going to hurt you. I love you, Camila."

Clearly at this point, Camila has the upper hand. Lauren is weakened from the blows to the face, is unarmed, and has no intentions of hurting her loved one. At the most, she'll perform simple self-defense maneuvers if she is attacked again, but nothing that will actually harm Camila. Maybe it is a little strange, or perhaps it does make sense; Lauren will effortlessly murder almost thirty innocent random strangers in a heartbeat, but would rather take the chances of dying than harm someone she loves. Someone as special as this girl, who showed her what true love actually is.

All of Camila's muscles urge her to lunge forward and stab her in the face. Slash her throat, physically rip her heart out just as Lauren has done to her emotionally. Or stab her in the stomach, twist the blade until she's almost passed out from the pain, and leave her there to die alone slowly in her house. No matter how much she wants this, no matter how much she wants justice, she just cannot bring herself to go through with it. The two of them glare at each other, breathing heavily, waiting for the other to make the next move.

"Camila?" Lauren prods her to talk, speaking with a gentle and cautious tone herself. Any sudden movements or abruptly raised voices may end with a knife in her chest.

"This doesn't make sense," Camila mutters under her breath, shaking her head. "You're... so sweet... to everyone. To me. To my parents. To your friends. I've seen how you interact with your patients. You care a lot about them and you help them so much. You helped me. But... then you killed so many people. It doesn't add up."

"I don't know how to explain my actions," Lauren frowns. "I stopped killing. I swore to myself I'd never kill again as long as you were with me. I swear to god I'd never hurt you."

With every word Lauren speaks, with every excuse she attempts to make for the irreparable damage that has been done, it only angers Camila more until she can't stand it anymore. She won't kill Lauren. Death would be too generous. A life spent in prison is a more appropriate fate.

She drives the knife into Lauren's right hand, penetrating not only the Cuban girl's flesh but also the surface of the wall. Her hand is now literally pinned to the wall as she screams out in pain. Camila has heard her scream before. But those screams have been out of pleasure in bed. This is more chilling, something that will likely replay in her head while she tosses and turns in bed, trying to fall asleep. How did Lauren do this? How did she invoke pain on another human being, witness their suffering, and live with herself? How did she do that to 28 individuals and enjoy it?

Before Lauren can try to remove the blade from her hand and strike back, Camila punches her on the side of her head a couple times more. It'll cause some nasty bruising and probably a bad headache the next morning, but none of her blows are strong enough to knock her out. Figuring that Lauren is in far too much pain to do much of anything, Camila runs to the kitchen a couple rooms over and grabs a frying pan out of the cupboard.

It's heavy and hard. Camila has only seen this done in movies and TV shows where it isn't actually real and the actors are in no real danger. She doesn't want to KILL the girl with this hit, just incapacitate her so she can call the police. But she doesn't have time to pull out her laptop and google search "How to hit someone on the head with a frying pan without killing them."

As Lauren hears Camila approach, she raises her head to see the tiny girl carrying the frying pan they use to make eggs, grilled cheese sandwiches, and other various meals. Her eyes widen in realization of what is about to happen. "Wait, Camila, no, please," she begs, shaking her head. Her hand is still pinned to the wall, the room spinning from the pain of both the stab wound and her broken nose. For once, SHE is the one at the disadvantage. She is helpless. Silently, she contemplates if this is how it felt to be one of her victims.

Camila lifts the frying pan and shuts her eyes tightly as she smashes it on top of Lauren's head. When the metal makes contact with her skull, a loud clang rings out, similar to if it were dropped on the floor. She expected another scream to escape the murderer's mouth or at least a groan, but all Camila hears is the sound of her body collapsing onto the floor.

She peeks out of her eyelids slowly, a wave of fear washing over her the more she opens her eyes. The scene in front of her is revolting. It looks like the scene of a murder, something you would only see on shows as gory as Breaking Bad or Game of Thrones. Lauren is slumped on the floor against the wall. Her right hand, still pinned to the wall, oozes with blood around the blade of the knife. Now, her broken nose isn't the only source of the dark red fluid—a trail of blood runs down the side of her face, stemming from somewhere on top of her head. That's definitely from the blunt force trauma of the pan. Her eyelids are open just enough to see the whites of her eyes that are rolled back into her head, and her mouth hangs slightly agate.

Hesitantly, Camila sets the frying pan on the floor and kneels in front of Lauren, placing two fingers on the pulse point in her neck. A heartbeat is there. Weak, but steady and present.

The reality of what happened comes crashing upon her. She curls up into a ball on the floor, sobbing into her knees.

Lauren is a murderer.

Lauren killed Sofi.

Camila stabbed Lauren.

Camila knocked Lauren out with a frying pan.

...Camila loved Lauren.

She runs through various scenarios and possibilities in her head that would explain Lauren's uncharacteristic killings. Multiple personality disorder, perhaps. Maybe the other personality was a murderer and that's why Camila would have never seen it coming. She forces herself to stop pondering—there are no excuses for what she did. Lauren lied to her, put on a facade to make her fall in love with her. It's not complicated. It's as simple as that.

Being no expert in medical affairs or how long someone who suffers from a blunt force trauma normally stays unconscious, Camila drags herself off of the floor and to her phone that sits on top of a table. She dials the number that everyone is taught about in kindergarten. This is her second time dialing it—the first was when the man broke into their home.

Their home. Lauren and Camila. This was THEIR home. They lived together, happy.

She can't dwell on it. Not now, at least. The phone rings exactly one time before the operator picks up.

"911, what's your emergency?" the male voice asks.

Her mouth moves, words come out, but they don't sound like her. It doesn't feel like she's speaking. This is all an out of body experience. She doesn't remember what she says—the next few hours feel like she's watching a movie that is stuck on fast forward and skips randomly.

It's all fragments to her. The sound of the police sirens. A team of cops forcing entry on the house, with paramedics behind them.

Lauren's limp, unconscious body being hauled onto a gurney and transported into an ambulance that speeds back to the hospital, sirens blaring. A police officer asking her a series of questions, and her answering them.

She tells them about the book. She tells them about the basement, about Lauren's confession.

She leaves out the part about her loving this monster of a human.

She recalls a paramedic and cop discussing whether she should have a psych consult completed at the hospital, or whether she should be questioned at the station first. The paramedic wins. The next thing she knows, she's in a private room in the emergency wing of the hospital, a psychiatrist asking her questions and examining her.

As soon as the consult is completed, she is transported to the police station. And from there, she'll go through the motions. She will answer their questions, she'll cooperate. She'll tell the truth about Lauren Jauregui, the infamous Miami Butcher, who mysteriously managed to stay under the radar for so long.

But she feels herself slipping back into the bad place again. The same darkness her mind was in after the disappearance of her sister. Maybe even worse.

Who will save her now?


	2. Chapter 2

She awakens to the sounds of doctors chattering, babies crying, monitors beeping, phones ringing, and pagers beeping. Slowly blinking her eyes open, Lauren realizes she's in the emergency room.

The memories return to her head right as the pain from being hit by the pan does. She isn't sure which hurts more.

Camila knows. The secrets she had worked so hard to hide were exposed, all because of a matter of bad timing.

Her little black book of murders didn't usually reside in the drawer of the guest room. She kept it in a loose ceiling tile in her therapy office. Somewhere no one would look, a place where Camila would never find it. A severe storm had hit Miami hard a week ago, though, and revealed the weakness in the ceilings of the building where her office was located. The building manager called in a roof repair company, and Lauren was forced to relocate her book for a couple days. How much of a fucking inconvenient coincidence for Camila to go snooping in the guest room for whatever reason on THAT day?

"Patient is waking up," the ER nurse informs one of the doctors. Pain spikes through her head. God, could they not talk so loudly?

A man in dark blue scrubs and a white lab coat approaches the bed, examining Lauren. He's tall with strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes. "Miss Jauregui? I'm Dr. Hunt. You suffered a broken nose, a head wound, and a stab wound on your right hand. We patched them up and we're waiting for CT results. Can you tell me the date?" he talks to her in a firm, strict manner. She imagines that he's probably friendlier with other patients. Given the fact that she is a murderer, it's different.

"Ugh.... April 16, 2024... it's a Tuesday," Lauren responds. Probably checking to see if she has any amnesia.

"Can you tell me your full name and your birthday?"

"Lauren Michelle Jauregui. June 27, 1996." The doctor nods, scribbling something on her charts. No amnesia here.

Without moving her head much, she observes the room around her for the first time. Most people in the emergency room are in one large area, only separated by curtains. Lauren gets her own private room along with a police officer on duty at all times in the corner of the room. She notices her wrists are handcuffed to the bed as well. Perks of being a suspected murderer.

Another doctor enters the room. She has vivid red hair, a high pitched annoying voice, and wears light blue scrubs instead of the dark ones. "You paged me?" she inquires.

"Yes, Kepner, where's the CT scan? It shouldn't be taking this long," Dr. Hunt asks her, a hint of impatience in his tone.

"They were backed up, I couldn't get her in. I could try again now?" the red-headed doctor stammers nervously.

Her attending grows increasingly more impatient. "Kepner, I need that CT. She was hit with a FRYING PAN. We need to see if there's any severe damage."

The pain in her head has gone from annoying to excruciating. It's absolutely unbearable. On top of that, her face feels numb, and she begins to get lightheaded. "Fuck, my head fucking hurts," Lauren complains, her voice weak. "I don't feel so..."

Lauren's eyes roll back into her head as her body starts violently convulsing. "This is why I needed that CT, Kepner," Dr. Hunt yells, running up to Lauren and rolling her so she lays on her side. The monitor beside the bed beeps rapidly.

The seizure ends as quickly as it started. It only lasted about twenty seconds total, and Lauren remembers none of it. All of a sudden, she's laying on her side, feeling weaker than before with both of the doctors standing over her.

"What just happened..." Lauren asks, rolling over so she lays on her back once again.

"You had a seizure," Dr. Hunt answers. "Kepner, is OR 3 open?"

The resident pulls out a small tablet and, after a few taps, she responds, "Yes."

"Page Shepherd. We're going into surgery, I think she has an intracranial hemorrhage and we need to drain the blood," he wheels her out of the room.

The last time Lauren was in this exact hospital was after being shot by Austin Mahone, the man who broke into their house. She had to undergo emergency surgery to remove the bullet. It was okay though, because she knew after she would wake up from the surgery, Camila would be there. Her girlfriend. The love of her life. She would be there to kiss her and hold her hand, even through all of the police questioning. Today after the surgery is completed, she will have no one.

When they place the anesthesia mask over her face and she breathes in the chemicals that will put her to sleep, it isn't even like she is sleeping. One minute she is in the OR, the next she is in her own room again recovering.

A new doctor enters the room. He wears the same dark blue scrubs as Dr. Hunt, has a gorgeous mane of black hair, and a soothing voice. "I'm Dr. Shepherd, I operated on you today. You had an intracranial hemorrhage, which is a brain bleed caused by the blunt force trauma to your head. That's what caused the seizure and the headache. We cleaned all the blood up and I'll be checking on your periodically."

Now that she is physically fixed up, Lauren figures it's only a matter of time before she is transported to the station to be interrogated. If the press has caught word that she is supposedly the Miami Butcher, there's probably a ton of people waiting outside the hospital and the station to bombard her with pictures and questions. There's no telling how much Camila revealed to the cops.

Camila.

Her fiancée. Ex-fiancée, now.

Remembering her hurts more than any physical pain she has endured in the past 24 hours. There's no way that the girl is going to forgive her. The entire reason they even met in the first place was because Camila was so broken over her little sister disappearing that she tried to kill herself and was forced to seek out therapy.

Lauren fucked up big time. Her parents are going to disown her and her friends won't want anything to do with her. Everyone she cared about will never speak to her again.

It's terrifying how quickly things can snowball and turn to shit.

*****

"Do you have a lawyer, or do you need a state-appointed lawyer?" a police officer asks Lauren. She now sits at the station in an interrogation room with her wrists in handcuffs. She should have enjoyed the hospital room while she could. It's unlikely she'll ever experience any room as decent as that again for the rest of her life.

Lauren has never sued anyone in her life, and she has never gotten sued. However, the mental wellness center she works at has a suggested lawyer for any of the psychologists, if any of their patients sue them for any reason. Her name is Normani Kordei. She's young but talented.

She tells them Normani's name, and within thirty minutes, the lawyer enters the interrogation room to speak with Lauren. They're escorted to a private room where no one can hear them.

"Hi, I'm Lauren. I'd shake your hand but..." Lauren raises her hands to show the handcuffs. "..obviously that won't be happening. Thanks for coming."

Normani takes a seat across from her. She's a beautiful black woman, likely around the same age as Lauren herself. She wears a black pencil skirt, a dark red blouse, and a black blazer on top. This woman emits the aura of professionalism, class, charisma, and intelligence. Even Lauren is a little intimidated by her presence.

She sets some documents down on the table, filling in what Lauren assumes to be paperwork.

"You're one of the therapists from the mental wellness center? What landed you in here?" Normani questions Lauren. The police officers didn't tell her anything, just that a client is in custody and has requested her service. This woman is a therapist. She looks pretty banged up—bruises all along the side of her face, a bandage on her nose and her head, and gauze wrapped around her right hand. Probably something petty, like a small fight.

Lauren doesn't respond. She's afraid that Normani will walk out if she tells her what she did to get herself in here. What if one of her victims happened to be this lawyer's friend or family member?

Normani senses her hesitation. "Lauren, I'm your lawyer. Steal from a store? Get in a fist fight with your mom? Guilty as charged? I'm a defense attorney. I deal with it. You're paying ME. I have to know the whole truth so I know what we're dealing with."

Taking a deep breath, Lauren sighs. This is the first person she's going to admit her murders to openly. "I am the acclaimed, infamous Miami Butcher. Guilty of murdering 27 people. 28, actually, but the last one was completely self-defense."

The lawyer is usually quite good at remaining professional, but at this news, she can't help but raise her eyebrows and drop her jaw. THIS woman is the dangerous serial killer in Miami, supposedly responsible for the disappearances of over 20 random people? Detectives could never figure out the connections between victims. They were from every race, sexuality, gender, occupation, and every other variable imagined. They couldn't figure out the killer's motive or anything.

Normani always imagined some disgusting white man who maybe suffered from a mental illness and a history of childhood abuse. But it's the young Cuban woman in front of her, who works at the mental wellness center as a therapist. It's her?

"You murdered Sofi Cabello? Bea Miller? Brad Simpson? All those others?" Normani names some of the victims she can recall off of her head. Lauren simply nods unashamedly.

She's not going to lie to herself—this woman is disgusting. Normani cannot fathom the idea of representing her in court. But she's in desperate need of money, so she has no choice. She asks Lauren about the details of her murders. How she was exposed, how much concrete evidence there is, questions like that.

After about 45 minutes of gathering information, Normani studies her notes.

Clearly she was a skilled enough murderer to hide her operations from neighbors, friends, and family for all this time. If Camila hadn't stumbled upon the book in the drawer, there's a good chance that this secret would have gone to the grave with Lauren, especially since she stopped murdering people after she started dating the other girl.

"So.... what do you think," Lauren asks, her green eyes staring at Normani, hoping she can find a way out for her.

"You're an idiot for keeping that black book full of names and dates of every person you killed. It's as if you wanted to make this easier for the police," Normani sighs. "Thankfully you weren't dumb enough to write how you killed them. The book is open for interpretation, they'll likely only use it in the interrogation but not the trial. I'm worried about the basement. How well did you say you cleaned it?"

"I disposed of the bodies in an acid container that I cleaned regularly," Lauren answers.

"What about the murder weapons? Bloodstains on the floors or the walls?"

"....Now that you mention it.... I never really bothered cleaning those up," Lauren frowns.

Normani shakes her head. "Lauren, you're going to plead guilty. Chances are that they will find enough evidence in that messy basement of yours and if you plead innocent, your sentence will be worse. Pleading guilty will be a long sentence as well, but there isn't a point fighting a battle you've already lost."

Lauren feels a rush of anger. She pounds on the table with disgust, glaring at her lawyer. "You're not even fucking trying. There has to be a way out. Fucking find it."

Normani retaliates with only a blank stare, and that's when Lauren knows she fucked up. "Don't you ever talk to me in that tone or I will walk out of this room and leave you with the state appointed lawyers, and trust me, honey, you're better off with a potato as a lawyer than those. Drop the attitude. You got yourself into this situation and I'm trying to help make the best of it. I can't erase your mistakes, I can't erase what you've done."

With a resigned sigh, Lauren sits back in the chair. "I know, shit, I'm sorry. I just... don't know what to do."

"Do what I say. Cooperate and confess during the interrogation. You'll plead guilty during the trial and it'll make everything smoother," Normani says.

Lauren never imagined it would come to this. Whenever she would watch Law & Order, the bad guy would ALWAYS plead innocent. It would lead to a long, drawn out court trial, and yeah, they might be caught in the end, but that's a TV show where the good guy always wins. She can't help but wonder if Normani is wrong. What if she pleads innocent? What if there's some loophole that they don't see because they aren't looking hard enough? Hell, they aren't looking at all. They're giving up. Lauren has never been the type to give up. Whether it be during a hard test, or in a struggle with one of her victims she's about to murder, she always perseveres until the very end and comes out on top. This is unfamiliar territory.

Yet she has no other option but to say, "Okay. I'll do what you say."

*****

The interrogation was simple. Lauren answered all of their questions, and while the detectives were disgusted by her answers, they were also surprised by her honesty. Usually the guilty struggle until the very last moment. Until they are backed into a corner and have no way out. This girl gave up so easily. The murderer of 27 people.

Lauren Jauregui will become a household name, not only in Miami, but nationwide. Maybe even internationally. She always dreamed of having her own Wikipedia page for doing something great. Yeah, she'll have a Wikipedia page, but it won't be what she dreamed of. The article will talk about her early life, her series of murders, her modus operandi, her arrest, her trial, and her defeat. The media will analyze every aspect of her history—they'll question how someone as seemingly sane as Lauren could be the culprit behind the mysterious disappearances that spread across Miami for two years.

The media will find her friends from every corner of the world, gather them, and badger them with questions. They'll answer with generic responses like, "Oh, we never would have suspected Lauren to be a serial killer! She was such a sweet girl."

The families and friends of her victims will know that they are gone for good. The veiled hope of their return will disappear, but at least there will be closure. A sickening closure.

If Florida still had the death sentence, there would be no question. Lauren would be on the table receiving the lethal injection in the blink of an eye. Thankfully for her, they got rid of it in 2018. Is that a blessing though? She wonders if a life in prison is preferable to a quick death.

Following the interrogation and a plea bargain, Lauren is set to appear in court in two weeks. The time passes quickly. Before she knows it, she is behind the defendant stand next to Normani, wearing an orange jumpsuit. Her bruises have faded slightly, but she still wears a bandage over the hand Camila stabbed.

She doesn't turn to look behind her. There's no telling how many friends and family members of her 27 victims sit in the audience. What she's most scared of, however, is facing Camila. Lauren isn't sure how she would react if she were to see her former lover's face. The image of how the anger emblazoned in Camila's face after emerging from the basement will never leave her thoughts. She never imagined she'd return from a trip to pick up wedding invitations to experience that.

The court session starts. It's fast. Not painless, but fast.

"Miss Jauregui, how do you plead?"

"Guilty, your Honor." The whispers of the audience in the court intensify. Lauren hears several clicks of cameras. This moment will be everywhere on the news tomorrow.

"Miss Jauregui, do you know that by pleading guilty, you lose the right to a jury trial?"

Lauren and Normani rehearsed this. She repeats the script she memorized.

"Yes, your Honor."

"Do you give up that right?"

"Yes, your Honor."

"Do you understand what giving up that right means?"

So many fucking questions. Lauren wants to scream. She wants to break out in tears, get on her knees and plead for forgiveness. She wants to plead for the universe to let her time travel back to when she hid the book. Not to when she first killed the victims, not to when she killed Sofi. Even through all of this shit, she still doesn't regret taking their lives. She regrets the mistakes the led to her being caught.

"Yes."

"Do you know that you are waiving the right to cross-examine your accusers?"

"Yes."

"Did anyone force you into accepting this settlement?"

Yes. Yes, they did. But she has to trust Normani.

"No."

"Are you pleading guilty because you are in fact responsible for the disappearances and murders of..."

The judge goes on to list every victim. Each one of their names. It takes at least three minutes for him to finish reading off her victims.

"Yes. And I have no. fucking. shame," Lauren states profoundly. Might as well go out with a bang and say how she really feels instead of reading words that Normani told her to say. She feels her lawyer's icy glare burning into the side of her face, but she ignores her shocked reaction along with everyone else's.

The judge issues her sentence, but she already knows it. Everyone in the room does. She is to spend the rest of her life rotting in prison.

As police officers surround her to escort her out of the court, Lauren is forced to turn around for the first time and face the audience. It's filled with people she recognizes as relatives to the victims. There's only one person she searches for in the crowd.

Lauren's eyes find Camila's almost instantly. She sits in the back row between her parents. Alejandro and Sinu deliver Lauren the coldest glare they've ever given anyone. She's never seen them so angry. Camila, on the other hand, is crying. Tears actively falling down her face, and she isn't sure if they're angry tears of sad tears. Probably a mixture.

It's throws her back to when Camila broke down in her office for the first time. When she held Camila in her arms, rubbing her back and whispering soft words of comfort until the girl's breathing steadied. It reminds her of when Camila would wake in the middle of the night crying from a nightmare, and pull Lauren's body closer for support. She wouldn't need to talk about it, she just needed the Cuban girl's presence to calm her down.

These memories cause Lauren to tear up herself for the first time since being arrested. In that one wordless exchange across the room, she is reminded how empty her life is going to be without her other half. Shutters of cameras click, and the flash of many photographs blinds her. Great, now the headline is going to discuss her crying with a huge picture of her with tears. It doesn't matter. Lauren couldn't care less about how anyone else perceives her. They can portray her as a demon. A heartless sociopathic ogre. Only one person's opinion matters to her: Camila's.

"I love you," Lauren mouths to Camila as tears drip down from her own eyes. The small drops fall into her mouth, the salty taste spreading across her tongue as she begins to cry harder.

Camila shakes her head, pushing past her parents and sprinting out through a side door. Everyone is too focused on Lauren's exit to notice Camila's.

At last, Lauren makes it into the back of the police car. She's driven back to the station to begin the rest of her life.

*****

It's been five months since Lauren was transferred to Lowell Correctional Institution near Ocala, FL. This is where she will be spending the rest of her life. Surprisingly, it's not entirely awful. She minds her business, but also holds her ground if anyone gives her any shit. Many of the inmates are amazed that she is the Miami Butcher—someone as young and seemingly fragile as her. It leaves her with a mixed reputation. Some people respect her for successfully avoiding the law for so long and racking up so many victims. Others, especially inmates who have children, despise her for killing Sofi, a child. It's caused a fair amount of fights, but the worst injury has only been a black eye.

She doesn't know if she has anyone she would consider a "friend." There are people that she sits with for meals, but nothing more. During recreational time, she reads books, paints, and writes. As of recently, she has started hooking up with a girl named Maritza who reminds her a lot of Camila.

Sometimes she daydreams of escaping. She dreams of Camila forgiving her and showing up every week on visiting day to see her. She imagines a future where they conspire together to break her out of the facility. They'd leave on a boat, cross the sea to a small luxurious country in Europe with new names where no one would know them. They'd start a new, peaceful life together, leaving all of the drama behind. Camila would move on from Lauren murdering her younger sister, and Lauren would move on from Camila nearly killing her in response. Then she snaps out of it. This is implausible. Camila hates her. She's probably an aspiring politician now, attempting to reinstate the death sentence so Lauren can get what she deserves.

The daydreams are the only things that keep her going, though.

One day, right as dinner ends and the inmates are being sent back to their cells for the night, Lauren catches a glimpse of someone who looks oddly familiar. No, that doesn't make sense. It can't be her. She must be dehydrated and hallucinating. She would never be in here, have her daydreams progressed a step too far? Lauren turns around and shakes it off, making a mental note to visit her counselor in the prison and ask to see a doctor. Hallucinations are never a good sign.

"Lauren?" a voice that sounds a lot like one that was once her favorite calls across the room. This is hallucinations on steroids. No fucking way this is actually happening.

Nonetheless, Lauren turns toward the voice supposedly calling her name. To her surprise, there's actually someone standing there. Someone she would never expect. The petite figure makes eye contact with her for the first time in months. Every unforgettable aspect of this girl is present. Those chocolate brown eyes she would stare into as they made love. Those lips that explored every inch of her skin. That beautiful, round ass. She wasn't mistaken. It's the girl who broke her heart. It's the girl she was sure she would never see again.

"Camila?"


	3. Chapter 3

Slumping into the hard plastic seat in the back of the police station, Camila's alone time is interrupted by her parents rushing into the room, both of them pulling her into a tight embrace as if they feared they would never hold their little girl ever again. After being questioned, the police called her parents to pick her up and briefly explained the situation. If it were her choice, she'd leave the station on her own. They determined that it was only appropriate for her parents to be notified, and that her mental state was slightly concerning.

"Ay dios mio, mija, are you alright?! We heard what happened," Alejandro rubs his daughter's back, attempting to comfort her.

"I never liked that Lauren. I didn't want you to leave with her, you should have stayed with us," Sinu cups Camila's cheeks with her hands, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face with her thumbs.

This is not comforting for Camila. It's quite the opposite—having to deal with her overbearing parents who baby her almost sends her over the edge. But she can only imagine how hard it is for them for their daughters to be involved in two tragedies of such huge magnitudes. First with Sofi disappearing, and now with her unknowingly being engaged with the most notorious serial killer in Florida. So she tolerates it to the best of her abilities.

"How much did they tell you?" Camila asks. She mainly wonders if the police included the part about Lauren being Sofi's killer.

"Everything," Alejandro responds. His eyes moisten with tears, but he quickly blinks them away.

"Even... even about Sofi?" Her voice cracks at the mention of her little sister's name.

Both of her parents nod, and it's at that moment when they can't hold in the tears anymore. None of them. The Cabello's sit together in the police station, holding one another and crying. For the past three years, they lived with the sliver of hope that Sofi was still out there. That maybe there would be a miracle and she would be discovered years later, and their lost little girl would return to them. After all this time, the mystery has finally been solved. There's closure in one aspect, but a nasty open wound for another.

Now that her parents are here with her and they have all acknowledged that her younger sister will never be returning to them, the reality truly sets in. And it's a goddamn bitch.

Camila is the first to wipe her tears away and compose herself as the emptiness that once ruled her life sets in once again. "Will you drop me back at my house now?"

Sinu retrieves a couple tissues out of her purse, blowing her nose and dabbing at her eyes. "Oh, no mija. You're coming home with us. We'll take care of you."

"Mami, please, I'm 25 years old... I'm sorry but you can't constantly be in my life and try to watch over me. I appreciate it, I do, but I need my space. I need my life to be my life," Camila frowns, standing up for herself for once. She's afraid that if she goes back to live at her parent's house, she'll live there until the day she buries them in the ground. Protectiveness can only reach a certain extent before it is too much.

"The house is a crime scene, police are all over it. Camila, pleaseunderstand... we are just worried about you... after what happened... last time... we just want to make sure you are okay. We'll help you search for a new apartment in a few months. For now, I think it is best for us to stick together as a family. Can you do that for us?" Alejandro talks to her in a firm yet gentle tone.

Thinking over his words for a minute, Camila finally gives her parents a reluctant nod. "I still want to drop by my house. Everything I have is there. It's my property, the police have to let me in..."

Her parents agree, relieved that they will be able to watch over their little girl once again. The broken family steps out of the station and enters the car, driving over to the house that she shared with Lauren. Due to the yellow "POLICE LINE: DO NOT CROSS" tape that stretches across the yard, they're forced to park on the street. There are four police cruisers parked in the grass. Several officers scour the outer area of the house, a few shoo away reporters who stand on the other side of the tape, and the rest must be inside.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Camila says, "I need to do this by myself."

Sinu opens her mouth to protest, but Alejandro holds a hand up to his wife to stop her from arguing. "Okay, mija. We'll be out here if you need anything."

She exits the car and ducks under the tape, crossing the yard to the front of the house. An officer who stands on the steps that lead up to the entrance crosses his arms. "This is a crime scene, ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"This is my house. I need to get my things," Camila tells him blankly.

"You're Camila Cabello?" he asks. She nods and watches him mutter something into his walkie talkie, then hears a muffled response from the small device.

"Alright, I'll need to escort you throughout the house though. Policy. Can't have you touching things that interfere with the investigation," the officer informs her. It's not ideal, but hopefully he'll have the decency not to try to make conversation with her.

It feels as if she hasn't stepped foot in this building in ages, although it's only been a few hours. Strange how a person's perception of time changes during traumatic events. The place that she called home just yesterday now feels alien to her. Most of the detectives and police officers occupy the basement area. A few wander around the first level, and she can hear footsteps coming from the second floor. On top of the counter sits several items in plastic evidence bags, including the pan she bashed against Lauren's head.

Sticky notes mark several locations that are to remain untouched—one resides on the wall that is stained with blood from their fight. Pushing away the better memories that happened inside of each of the rooms Camila is forced to walk through, she heads up the stairs.

Glancing into the guest room, she wonders how her life would be if curiosity had not gotten the best of her. She'd probably be finishing up the wedding invitations with Lauren right now, and they'd be trying to figure out what to eat for dinner. She wonders if it would have been better for her to stay blissfully ignorant of the horrors that had happened inside of this house. Maybe Lauren wasn't lying when she said that she really was in love with Camila throughout this whole mess. Maybe they would have lived their life out like they planned—they would have gotten married, possibly moved to California, had some kids, and lived an excruciatingly average, normal life.

The officer escorting her through the house clears his throat, reminding her of his presence. A surge of annoyance rushes through her. Can't they understand that she needs some time alone to process? Why can't anyone seem to comprehend the concept of personal space?

Camila enters the bedroom that they shared together. The queen sized bed is still unmade, neither of them bothering to tidy up the room after some morning sex. The area appears mostly untouched, as a pair of Camila's panties lays on the floor beside the bed. She can't help but feel slightly embarrassed and wonder if any of the officers have encountered the lingerie on the ground.

This is going to be particularly difficult if she allows the strange mix of emotions rushing through her head to control her. She needs to turn off her thoughts, and focus at the task at hand: gathering her belongings. When she opens the closet to retrieve her suitcase, she tries her best to ignore the sight of Lauren's clothes.

Reaching in to grab the handle of her suitcase, a black dress of Lauren's hanging in the closet brushes her arm. Thoughts intrude in her mind—dark thoughts that she never wanted to imagine or ever consider. But turning her feelings off has never been her forte.

I wonder if she killed Sofi while wearing this. No. She can't do this to herself right now. Pull the suitcase out of the closet, close it, and pack.

She creates a mental list of things that she absolutely needs to retrieve from the house. Clothes, makeup, and certain toiletries. Her goal is to finish packing as quickly as possible.

First, underwear. The drawer is divided; on the left side is Camila's clothes, and on the right is Lauren's. This should make things a little easier. She sifts through her drawers, throwing her various bras and panties into the suitcase. She purposely doesn't pack the lingerie that Lauren bought for her as a gift, or Lauren's favorite underwear for her to wear.

Tops. Bottoms. Socks. Sweaters. Jackets. Accessories. It's a long, slow, and painful process, but Camila manages to tough it out and gather all of her articles of clothing into her suitcase. She does this by retreating into her fantasies. Fantasies full of fairy dust and fairy wings, a childlike space in her head where nothing bad happens. This is where she would go to escape reality in high school, where she never felt like she fit. It's no permanent fix, but it's enough to help temporarily.

After she packs a couple necessary toiletries and her makeup, Camila zips the suitcase shut and takes one last look at the bedroom. Her eyes are drawn to the collage of polaroids behind the bed. The polaroids range from their first few dates to their most recent Hawaii trip where Lauren proposed. No unsuspecting person would ever believe that one of the girls in these photos was a serial killer. No one.

"I'm done," Camila stands up and turns to the officer. He offers to help her with her suitcase, but she firmly declines, carrying the heavy bag down the stairs with a shaky arm.

Without looking back, she hauls it out of the house and into the trunk of her parent's car. They ask her if she is okay and several other questions, but she simply sits in the car in silence. She dreads what will happen when they arrive back at her childhood house. This feels morbidly familiar.

*****

Her name is everywhere. Lauren Jauregui. The Miami Butcher, finally apprehended after all of these years. 27 unsolved cases, closed. Her mugshot covers every magazine, every newspaper, and appears on every newscast.

It's a disturbing mugshot. The first time Camila saw it, a wave of nausea overtook her and she began to go out of her way to avoid seeing it again. Lauren stands in an orange jail jumpsuit, her magnificent green eyes piercing into the camera. Her right eye is swollen like hell and starting to bruise, and there are several cuts on her nose and lip. This must have been taken after they cleaned her up in the hospital, Camila assumes, otherwise there would be significantly more blood.

The disturbing part is her smile. Her lips are closed and curled up in the same manner that chilled Camila on the night of their home invasion. There's a sinister look in her eyes, and the smile seems to say that she has no inhibitions or regrets about her actions. It seems to admit that she is indeed the sociopath the police have been searching for, she did kill all of those people. And she is proud.

Camila spends a lot of time in her room, either reading, listening to music, or laying on her bed and staring up into space, thinking about nothing. She has no energy—many of her meals have to be brought to her, and she only ever leaves her room to go to the bathroom. Her emotional state is as bad, if not worse than it was following Sofi's disappearance. Only this time, she can't go to therapy for it. It would be far too triggering. Her ability to trust people has been shattered. She hardly even trusts her own parents.

In fear of history repeating, Camila's parents check up on her frequently and require her to leave the door open. She's surprised they don't have a camera installed, or a baby monitor. It's a fair concern, though. Camila certainly wishes that she didn't exist.

Sofi's funeral, which is held a week following the tragedy, is the first time Camila leaves the house. At the event, she speaks to no one, merely nodding as family members and friends approach her in mediocre attempts of consoling her. Words are not very effective when it comes to comforting her. She wonders if she will ever be ok again.

There is no body to bury. No clothing that she wore on the day she was kidnapped and murdered, no remnants at all. Lauren was fucked up, but she was skilled. She always planned ahead, and was intelligent enough to capable of disposing 27 bodies without ever being discovered until now. Her parents gently encouraged Camila to say a few words about her sister, or even just a lighthearted story. However, her mental state has prohibited her from completing such a feat.

The numbers etched on Sofi's tombstone break Camila's heart, if there's even anything left to break at all.

"Sofi Cabello

2007 – 2021"

Not even 15 years. Not even a fifth of a century, and her life was stolen away from her. The gravestone should read 2080, or even 2090. She was too young. The casualty of a murderous psychopath. Camila begins to blame herself again, her old feelings of self-hatred resurfacing, erasing all of the progress she had made in therapy.

Sometimes, Camila can hear her parents watching the news downstairs. They forget that she always has her bedroom door open, and the sounds of the TV are loud enough to echo into her room. This results in the occasional misfortune of hearing the news discuss Lauren.

The news anchors are baffled by how Lauren was able to maintain such a perfect facade for all these years. They've brought various psychiatrists and experts onto the news, who say that Lauren Jauregui is the one of the most dangerous, manipulative sociopaths that society has ever encountered. Her lack of empathy allowed her to end so many innocent people's lives without any mercy, but in the words of the psychiatrists, she was also able to "fabricate highly affectionate emotions of love well enough to manipulate the ones closest to her."

When she hears the psychiatrists on the TV claiming that Lauren's feelings toward Camila weren't real, she feels defensive. She wants to take the first flight over to the news station, slap them, and scream in their face that it was real. It had to be real. There's no way that all of her love for Lauren was unrequited. She felt the other girl's passion in her hungry kisses that would leave both of them breathless. She remembers how Lauren's tense muscles would relax when she would pull Camila closer to her in bed at night, and she'd hear a soft purr of content from the Cuban. You can't fake that. There's just no way.

One night, as Sinu and Alejandro are watching the news, Camila overhears that Lauren's trial will be held the next day at noon in the courthouse. The past two weeks, she has been cycling through feelings of blame, confusion, anger, and sadness. She's been trying to find answers to her questions without anywhere to start looking. How dumb and naive was she, to fall in love with Lauren so blindly and never see the true monster hiding deep within? Was it because she really does have a good side? Or was it all an act, like everyone says it is?

Camila isn't sure what she wants to believe. If it's an act, then she's just another victim of Lauren's who fell for her stunts. Another person who was effortlessly deceived. But if the other girl's feelings of love were true, everything becomes much more complicated. There are so many variables, so many possibilities, so many paradoxes. As a person who wants to learn the reasoning behind why things happen, she feels like she will never get closure without a solid answer.

And that answer may be uncovered at the trial.

When Camila scurries down the stairs and appears in the living room, a look of hope spreads onto her parent's faces. They begin to dream that this is the turning point for Camila. Maybe she's healing for real by herself.

"I want to go to the trial tomorrow," she opens her mouth and destroys their hope in one sentence. She watches their smiles fade from their faces into a worried, disapproving frown.

"I don't think that would be the best idea," Alejandro shakes his head.

"And I'm glad you're worried about me. Really, I am. I'd be worried about my daughter too if she did nothing but lay in her room all day, never moving except when absolutely necessary. If you're worried enough, then you'll realize that I need this. I'm not being masochistic, I need this and I can't explain why but you have to trust me." For the first time since her interrogation, Camila speaks more than one sentence. Her parents have almost forgotten what her voice sounds like, only hearing her speak one word fragments over long intervals of time. "I'm a legal adult, I can make my own decisions. If you won't give me the keys or take me yourself, I have other ways of getting there."

Alejandro and Sinu share a look of worry with one another. They only envision bad things resulting in Camila witnessing the trial. But their daughter is right. As much as they want to baby her and keep her under their watch as long as possible, she has to possess the freedom to make her own choices if she wants to feel like a normal person again.

"Okay, mija. We'll take you," Alejandro stands up and hugs his daughter. She notices that he is careful not to squeeze too tight, as if her bones were made of glass and she was so fragile she could break in an act of carelessness.

The next day at the courthouse, as Camila sits between her parents waiting for the trial to begin, she is restless. The atmosphere is charged with negativity. She can make out several faces in the crowd as families of Lauren's other victims. This anticipation is similar to the anticipation she would experience waiting for a singer to take the stage at a concert. Except this is a dreadful anticipation, not an excited anticipation.

The wooden doors creak open, and the entire room falls silent, turning around to face the back of the room. Lauren, wearing the same orange jumpsuit as she wears in her mugshot, is escorted to the front of the room with police officers and security guards surrounding her. Behind her walks a confident black woman, who is presumably her defense attorney.

Lauren doesn't turn her head to face any of the members of the audience as she walks down the aisle to the defendant stand. From the brief glimpse Camila managed to take of the girl, she looks worn down. Her hair, although still admittedly attractive, is lifeless, and so is her face.

When the judge calls for the start of the trial and the opening statements from both the defense and prosecution are delivered, Camila begins to think that her parents were right after all. This was not a good idea. What possessed her to think that attending this trial would give her any answers? She's just going to witness her ex-fiancee's downfall, and that isn't going to be of any comfort. Stirring in her seat, she contemplates leaving. Not yet. There had to be a reason she came here.

The judge asks Lauren how she pleads. When Lauren opens her mouth, Camila expects the voice of a stranger's to come out. Because that's how she views the girl at the front of the room—she's a stranger. This isn't the girl she fell in love with. She didn't fall in love with a convicted murderer. But as words come out of her mouth, the voice is familiar. Sweet and raspy, just as Camila remembered it. Then she realizes that this girl isn't a stranger. This is, in fact, the girl she fell in love with. This is Lauren.

When Lauren states that she has no shame about killing her victims, people in the audience gasp. Her parents give her hands a squeeze, and she begins to feel like Lauren is a stranger again. All perceptions of familiarity disintegrate.

She's so confused. One minute, Lauren seems so familiar. Camila is able to identify her as the caring, sweet therapist that mended all of the cracks in her heart that she thought were unfixable. The next, she fits the picture painted by the media: a heartless sociopath, void of all empathy and human emotions. The confusion is overwhelming, and she begins to cry silently, warm tears sliding down her cheeks.

Right as she starts to cry, the judge finishes issuing Lauren's sentence and bangs the gavel on the podium. With one police officer on each side and a firm grip on her arms, she's escorted down the aisle, and the two girls share their first interaction since Camila knocked her out in their house.

Her blank face fills with emotion as her green eyes meet Camila's. Even through all of the commotion and all of the people in the room separating them from one another, it feels as if it is only them. Camila sees Lauren crying herself, her first display of emotion in public. She tries to brush it off as just another attempt to manipulate her. That's what it has to be. She was so smug about her actions just minutes ago, how could she go from an uncaring asshole to crying within seconds?

But Lauren's emotions are too raw to be fabricated. It would be impossible for her to fake this. Not even the best actress could put on an act as genuine as this. Camila witnesses her ex begin to cry harder the longer they maintain eye contact. She spots her heaving for breath as her body shakes from the sobs.

And then her mouth moves to form three words. Three unmistakable, clearly distinguishable words, directed right to Camila.

"I love you."

It feels like Camila just got the wind knocked out of her. The three words are like a sucker punch right to the throat, and suddenly Camila is gasping for air too. She feels like she's drowning with an anchor tied to her ankle dragging her down as she fights helplessly to try to reach the surface. One more minute in this room and she may actually pass out.

Pushing past her parents, Camila runs out of the courthouse through a side door, not daring to look back. Sliding down a wall on the outside of the building, she takes a few deep breaths, and then curls up into a ball to sob. Only this time, Lauren isn't there to hold her. Lauren isn't there to whisper comforting words into her ear to reassure her that everything is going to be ok again.

Now, she knows why she went to the courthouse. In that very short exchange across the room, all of Camila's questions were answered. Lauren loved her. Not even past tense—Lauren loves her. And through all the madness, through all of the fucked up things revealed about her, Camila loves her too. The people in the media attempting to psychoanalyze Lauren were wrong all this time. Every single moment between them was real.

Fuck anyone who claims otherwise.

*****

After the trial, Camila did improve quite a bit emotionally. She started leaving her house and reestablishing contact with her friends. Instead of avoiding anything to do with Lauren or their relationship, she now immerses herself in it. She no longer denies their connection, but rather embraces it.

Three months later, Alejandro and Sinu assisted Camila in purchasing an apartment of her own. She's only a fifteen minute drive away, but they collectively agreed that it would be healthy for her to start a life of her own. They no longer fear that she will take her life.

Based on her outward behavior, no one would assume that she is struggling inside. Her struggle is no longer with the fact that her soulmate murdered her younger sister, but rather the fact that she will never see her soulmate again. As awful as it is, Camila cannot envision herself with anyone else except Lauren, the girl who ruined her life. She can pretend to be happy, she can kiss other girls at bars, but she knows it herself. No one will ever provide her the happiness that Lauren did. At night when she sleeps alone in her apartment, she misses Lauren's body against hers. She craves impossibilities.

About a month after moving into her apartment, a strange idea pops into her head one night when she is out, intoxicated with her friends. At first she pushes it away, assuming the idea was created solely under the influence of the alcohol and shouldn't be taken seriously. But when the idea continues to invade her thoughts during the night and day, she realizes it's the only way to erase the impossibilities from her desires.

After a long night of research and a five hour drive up to University of Florida in Gainesville, Camila locates The Estates, a popular off-campus housing option for the students of UF, on her phone's GPS. She buzzes up to room 505.

"Who is this?" A skeptical female voice questions several seconds after the buzz is received.

"It's Camila. Can I talk to you?" Camila asks hesitantly.

"Camila...? Um.. sure, one minute," the female sounds confused. Less than a minute later, a door opens.

In front of her stands Taylor Jauregui, Lauren's sister who is 5 years younger. Camila met her twice before. Because of how spread out the Jauregui's are, she was never able to spend much time with the family.

"What's up..?" Taylor frowns, able to sense that this is not about to be a pleasant conversation. Ever since Lauren's identity was exposed, life has not been easy for the Jauregui's. Their family name is now automatically associated with a psychopathic serial killer, rendering it much harder to land jobs. Taylor is treated a lot harsher by her fellow students in class. Having her sister's ex show up unannounced at her door is a little alarming.

"Can I come in?" Camila asks. Taylor shrugs, figuring that she shouldn't turn this girl down. She's probably suffered the most out of all of them.

She resides on the third floor of the apartment complex. It's a one bedroom, one bathroom luxury suite with a small kitchen and living room. Camila takes a seat on the couch as Taylor sits opposite of her.

"It's been a while. I haven't seen you since..." Taylor creates small talk, growing uncomfortable with the silence that hangs between them. She catches herself before she says something too inappropriate.

Since before Lauren was revealed to be a fucking crazy killer. Yeah, I know.Camila finishes Taylor's thought in her head, but doesn't vocalize this. Instead, she finishes it with a more appropriate sentiment. "...since last Christmas, yeah, how have you been?"

"I've been... living. Going to classes, trying to finish out my undergrad as quick as I can," Taylor responds. Even at family gatherings, she and Camila didn't ever really talk much. What compelled the girl to drive all the way from Miami to Gainesville? "How about you? What brings you up here?"

Camila stands up and wanders over to the window overlooking the courtyard of the apartments. She leans out of the window, breathing in the fresh air, watching a few students read under some trees, and listening to the sounds of nature. "This is a really beautiful view. You were living in the dorms last year, weren't you?"

Taylor heads over to where Camila stands by the window, also peering out of it. "Yep, they were small and I had no use for them anymore."

"Taylor?" Camila says the other girl's name, as if she is deeply apologetic for something.

"...Yeah?" Taylor turns her head toward Camila, squinting at the older girl. She's acting quite strange. Is she high, perhaps?

"I'm sorry," Camila mutters almost inaudibly as she uses all of her upper body strength to shove Lauren's younger sister out of the window.

Taylor shrieks, not fully registering what is happening. By the time she is able to process that she has just been pushed out of a window, her body hits the hard concrete below the window with a nauseating crack.

This was her plan. To kill Lauren's younger sister in a public setting. It would send her to prison, the process would be fairly fast given the public setting, and she would be able to reunite with Lauren once more. And with the person she harmed being Lauren's sister, Camila is able to hurt her back. An eye for an eye sort of deal. Now they're even, and they'll be able to forgive one another and be together like they were meant to be.

The plan was so great in her head. But now, as she stares down at Taylor's probably dead body on the concrete and hears the screams of witnesses in the courtyard, Camila snaps out of her delusional mental state. Why did she ever think this was a good idea?! Harming an innocent human being in order to get back to someone who truly is fucked in the head? Lauren could kill because she had the emotional capacity—or, rather, incapacity—to deal with the consequences of her actions. She was never haunted by her actions, but Camila is a highly emotional person. She knows this. She is aware of the debilitating guilt that will follow her until her last breath from killing a person. Even if the person she killed was a mass murderer, she'd still feel somewhat guilty over it.

"Oh... o-oh no," Camila runs her hands through her hair, nervously pacing by the window. "What have I done? What have I done? Oh god, what have I done?"

Students who were sitting in the courtyard rush to Taylor's side. One of them looks up, points at Camila, and calls 911. Taylor wouldn't have screamed if it had been a suicide. They know that it was her who pushed the Jauregui girl out of the window, and now she is going to pay.

Sirens of both police cars and ambulances mix together as they pull in to the apartment complex. The last time the sirens were so close, they were for Lauren. Now, they are for Camila. She lays down on the nearby couch, thinking back to her last night in Hawaii with Lauren. The night she proposed.

*****

They sit on the warm sandy beach of Hawaii right behind their hotel, Camila leaning on Lauren's shoulder as they face the ocean. In Miami, due to living in close proximity to an urban setting, the stars are clouded by pollution. Here, thousands of miles away from the main lands of the United States and far away from any huge cities, the stars are able to shine without any interference. A full moon shines big and bright amidst all of the white dots speckling the sky.

"Camila Jauregui.... I love that. Mrs. Camila Jauregui. I feel like I'm Cinderella and I've found the shoe that fits my foot perfectly," Camila holds out her hand, examining the gorgeous diamond ring that now resides on her finger. She wonders how much money Lauren invested in this ring. Money doesn't matter, though. Lauren could have proposed with a Ring Pop and she would have said yes.

"So we're going with Camila Jauregui, huh?" Lauren smiles, playing with flower on the side of her fiancée's head.

"Hmmm, well now that you mention it, Lauren Cabello sounds pretty fitting too," Camila shrugs. She digs in her pockets to attempt to find a coin, but sighs when she only finds gum wrappers and crumpled up receipts. "Shit, I was going to say we could flip a coin but I don't have one."

"Shhhh, there's no rush babe. We don't need to figure that out right now, let's just enjoy this moment," Lauren tilts her head to kiss Camila's lips.

Camila reciprocates for a minute, and although she would love for a moonlight make out session on the shores of exotic Hawaii, she lays her head down in Lauren's lap and allows the older girl to play with her hair. They sit like that in silence for an unknown amount of time.

They don't need to talk to appease one another. Sometimes the silence is enough. It's fitting, especially in a time like this. Just the presence of each other is enough to please them.

The younger girl's eyelids droop. They feel heavy with drowsiness from their past week's adventures in Hawaii. Together, they explored the islands, hiked to a volcano, learned about the local's customs, partied, and that past day, they cliff jumped into the ocean. Lauren made sure to advise Camila to jump with her body positioned like a pencil so it won't hurt. She was listening, but still ended up in the wrong position and bruises covering the bottom of her thighs. Sexy times with Lauren are going to hurt for a while.

"Camz, are you awake?" Lauren asks softly.

"Mmmm," Camila responds, too tired to open her mouth to form a coherent word.

"This is random but I was thinking about what you were saying that night I met your parents for the first time. Do you remember what you were talking about?" Lauren inquires.

"Ummm... that's hard, I ramble a lot," Camila shrugs.

"Think," Lauren urges her gently, giving her a moment of silence to think. She's sure that the younger girl will remember. It's too profound of a moment to forget.

"...Oh yeah! I was talking about fate, wasn't I? That was the night we had sex for the first time," Camila recalls.

"Yes," Lauren smiles down at her, although the darkness of the night makes it hard for either of them to see. "You were saying how you think everything happens for a reason. Back then, I didn't want to tell you but I went along with what you were saying anyway because you seemed so passionate in your beliefs. I'm more of a realist, I was never the biggest believer of fate. I thought it was beautiful how you much of a dreamer you were, though. I thought it was beautiful how you believed in fate and I admired that. I wished that I could share your mindset and view the world through such optimistic lenses."

"Being a realist is good too, though. You keep me grounded. Without you, my head would be too far in the clouds all the time."

"True, and you help me see other perspectives. What I was going to say is that I do think you were right. I think that the stars aligned themselves just so we could be together. They always did, and always will. If reincarnation exists, then I believe that we were together in every past life and will be together in every future life. Whether the universe were to create us as little bugs or fishes in the ocean, we would find each other. I'm convinced that we'll always find each other, in any universe, in any reality, in any body, in any dimension," Lauren muses aloud.

"What makes you think that?" Camila asks. Lauren's mind is beautiful, and whenever she goes on little rants or tangents like this, they never fail to be brilliant and insightful. She wonders if Lauren keeps a journal anywhere full of her thoughts. It's probably fascinating.

"I feel drawn to you. It transcends the physical realm. I probably sound fucking batshit but it's how I feel. I felt it even on the first day that I met you. Just like you were saying with the names... meeting you, a part of me knew that you were going to be special. Somehow, the entropy of the universe conspired in just the perfect way for us to collide. And I think it always will," Lauren says.

"Wow, save it for the vows, Jauregui," Camila jokes, and Lauren playfully slaps her arm. "You're starting to sound a lot like me, I think you've been around me too much."

"That's a compliment... you're really poetic, anyone would dream of sounding like you," Lauren shrugs.

"Well... I agree with everything you said. I've always felt that way but you vocalized it perfectly. I love you," Camila sits up, pulling Lauren into a tight embrace. The two lay down in the sand together, holding each other and drifting off to sleep. 

*****

As Camila recalls the romantic moment of that night, she thinks about what Lauren said to her. This is just the universe recalculating in order to make sure they both reach their destinations. And their destinations are to each other. Maybe this wasn't the best way to get back to her, but everything will work out in the end. It has to.

A strange calm washes over Camila as the police officers burst into Taylor's former room, slapping handcuffs over her wrists and taking her into custody.

*****

Stepping into the walls of the women's prison in Ocala, Camila is beyond nervous. She knows Lauren is here, but there's no telling how prison has changed this girl. She could be the leader of a gang and want to kill Camila the minute she lays eyes upon her. Or she could be dead, beaten to death over some mashed potatoes at dinner. No, that's irrational, if she was murdered in the prison, it surely would have made the news.

Her cellmate is sleeping when she arrives. She's careful not to wake her—she knows that she herself gets grumpy when she is rudely awakened during a nap. The inmate who escorted her into the prison and is showing her around informs her that it is dinner time. She's lead to a large cafeteria where all of the prisoners eat together.

From what Camila can see, for the most part, each race sticks to their own race. There are some Asians mixed among the white people, and racially ambiguous people sitting among other races, but other than that, it's pretty divided. She thought that spotting Lauren would be easy, but she is unable to locate the girl throughout the entire meal. What if she was transferred to a different prison? That would ruin the entire point of her being here.

She sits across the inmate who showed her around and a few others who eat in silence. The food is obviously no gourmet Food Network quality, but it's not like they served it out of a dumpster. It's probably the same quality as the food in her high school cafeteria.

The time allocated for dinner ends quickly. Figuring that she can try to ask around about Lauren tomorrow, Camila stands up to dump her tray, and then she sees her across the room.

It's her without a single doubt. Her black hair has faded to a dark brown after months of not being able to dye it. Her skin that used to be slightly tanned from going to the beach has become a pale white. Other than those slight physical changes, it's Lauren. Those green eyes can't be found anywhere else.

As she stares at the girl from across the room, she is hit with the heavy fact that she killed Taylor. She killed Lauren's little sister and if Lauren ever finds out, she'll never want anything to do with Camila again. It was a mistake, something she regrets every day. Taylor's shrieks when she was pushed out of the window sometimes wake her up in the middle of the night, panting heavily from the nightmare. She has to shake it off. Lauren will be in prison for a long time, and so will Camila. She doesn't have to tell her anything, and it'll stay her little secret.

"Lauren?" Camila's voice carries across the room, alarming the Cuban girl. She appears as if she has just heard a ghost.

With wide eyes, the older girl turns toward the source of the voice and they make eye contact. Camila experiences the feeling that Lauren described to her on that unforgettable night so many months ago.

And when Lauren calls Camila's name, she feels like she's finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It sounds a lot like an ending but I promise there's more to come, specifically more fucked up shit. As always thank you for sending me feedback, I appreciate every single comment and message! I never thought that people would be so interested in this fic.
> 
> \- Natalie (twitter: @laurinah, tumblr: laurensjauregui)


	4. Chapter 4

Trigger warnings: violence, death, suicide mention

For Camila, seeing Lauren again after all of these months is like an adrenaline rush. She returns to her cell with her heart pounding and an overwhelming sense of euphoria. She hasn't felt like herself for months, but with Lauren in the same building, in the same room as her once again, she finally feels like Camila Cabello again. A huge part of her knows it's fucked up. Lauren is amurderer. Lauren ruined her life, yet here she is, condemning herself to years in prison just to be with the girl she loves.

Besides the exchange from across the room, they were unable to truly interact. After Lauren called Camila's name, the two of them held meaningful eye contact for a good twenty seconds before Lauren turned around and headed back to her cell. The Cuban's eyes are just as she remembers them—galaxies of emerald. Even from across the room, their magnetism is extraordinary. Camila recalls the times they would lay in bed, holding one another closely and doing nothing except staring into each other's eyes. Picture and videos will never be able to capture their magnificence.

Camila returns to her own cell to find that her presence and the noise of other women returning to their cells has awoken the inmate sleeping in the bunk bed. She groans groggily, rolling over on the bed to face the source of the disturbance. This girl appears to be around Camila's age. Her blonde locks betray her olive colored skin that indicate she is clearly not white, but Camila can't discern what race she is at first glance.

The inmate's voice snaps Camila out of her thoughts. "Didn't anyone teach you not to stare?" Embarrassed, she quickly averts her gaze to the floor and feels her cheeks flush.

"U-Uh, sorry," Camila apologizes. This girl looks like she could easily hurt anyone who crosses her. Afraid of the potential consequences of her mindlessness, she begins to ramble. "I, um, I spaced out. I didn't mean to stare. It was stupid. I'm stupid. Please don't beat me up. Not insinuating that you would. Shit, I'm rambling, I'm sorry. I'll shut up now."

Her cellmate's eyes narrow the longer she babbles. It's at this moment when Camila realizes that she was not made for prison. She's a tiny, fragile girl who has never gotten in a physical fight in her life. Besides the fight with Lauren, but she was fueled by her rage. She'll be lucky to survive a week in this institution, let alone survive this encounter with her cellmate.

The blonde sits up and climbs down from the top bunk. Now that she stands on the ground, she appears ten times more intimidating. She towers over Camila, her body at least eight inches taller than the Latina's. For every step forward she takes, Camila takes two steps backward until her back hits the wall.

Camila's eyes shut and her muscles tense, preparing for the first blow. Will the other girl kick her shins? Will she throw a punch, or make it fast and bash her head into the hard wall behind her?

The abrupt sound of the taller girl cackling startles Camila so bad that she almost jumps out of her skin. Peeking her eyes open, she watches her cellmate keeled over, laughing so hard that her eyes water with tears.

"AHHHHH YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN YOUR FACE!!! YO ASS WAS SO SCARED!!!" she's practically screaming with laughter, slapping at her knees and wiping tears out of her eyes. Camila isn't sure whether to be relieved or offended.

Camila chuckles nervously, playing along with her. "Heh... yeah... you got me," she forces a smile, standing against the wall awkwardly as the other girl continues to crack up over her reaction. It wasn't that funny...

Finally, after a minute, the inmate wipes the final tears away, taking a deep breath and calming down. "That was the funniest shit I've seen in a looong time, thanks for that," she sighs happily, taking a seat on the edge of the bottom bunk. "You're my new cellmate?"

"Yeah, I'm Camila."

"Last name?"

"Cabello."

The taller girl's eyebrows raise in recognition. Camila knew her last name had to be somewhat recognizable, after all of the media coverage about Sofi, but she never expected it to reach the prisons. Unless the prisoners have access to the news. "Ooooooh you know Jauregui then?"

The mention of Lauren triggers all sorts of hormones releasing in her body. Hormones of awareness, recognition, and affection. "Yeah. What's your name?"

"Here in the prison we call each other by last names but you gave me the best laugh I've had in months so I'll let you call me Dinah," she doesn't seem to mind the change in subject. "What time is it? ...did I miss dinner?"

"It just ended," Camila answers, frowning when Dinah rolls her eyes in clear frustration. As someone who loves on food and basically just lives life anticipating her next meal, she would be pretty upset too if she slept through dinner. "I came in earlier but you were sleeping and I didn't want to wake you up."

"Smart move," Dinah shrugs. "I don't know what makes me grumpier... no food or no sleep... next time I take a nap before a meal, bring me something back."

"We aren't allowe—"

"You heard me," Dinah interrupts her, already aware of the rule that isn't very strictly enforced. "I do it all the time, you'll be fine!"

Still a little scared by the girl, Camila doesn't protest further. Walking past Dinah to her bed, she begins to spread the sheets over the bare mattress. The prison didn't provide very nice blankets or a mattress pad, so she has a feeling she's going to wake up pretty sore in the morning. The regrets that weigh on her chest are as heavy, if not heavier than the regrets that would haunt her at night when she would blame herself for Sofi's disappearance.

"So you know Lauren too?" Camila inquires, taking a seat on her bed and facing Dinah who had been stretching.

"Who?" her face twists in confusion.

"Jauregui, I mean. Jauregui," she corrects herself, remembering what Dinah told her about the inmates referring to each other mainly with their surnames. "What's she like?"

Every day since the trial, Camila would wonder if prison has changed Lauren. She would picture her ex-fiancée surrounded by tough imprisoned mafia bosses, all holding makeshift knives that they carved with various debris found in trash cans. Then it would hit her that this picture she would paint in her head was of the girl she thought she knew. The girl she thought she slept next to each night. In reality, the true Lauren, the murderer, is probably at home in prison. She no longer has to hide her sadistic desires. In fact, she could probably murder any of the prisoners and get away with it since the government doesn't want to waste too much money investigating a prison death.

"Ohhh yeah, uh huh," Dinah nods, and climbs to her bed on top of the bunks. "That girl can really throw down. She doesn't start shit but if someone goes for her, she comes out on top every time. Minds her own business, when I see her in the rec room she's either reading or with Ramos."

"Who's Ramos?" Camila asks, although she already has a good feeling that she knows the answer already.

"Her girlfriend... if you can call it that," Dinah responds. "I'm gonna go to sleep now, my ass is tired as fuh still. Night!"

Camila crawls under her sheets, covering herself with the blanket and facing the wall. Her girlfriend. Only five months gone and Lauren has moved on from their relationship onto another girl. Shouldn't she be hurting more? If the love was real, shouldn't she need more time to grieve before bouncing onto the next girl? Maybe Dinah is exaggerating. She did add a comment to insinuate that the relationship isn't very legitimate. That doesn't stop Camila from assuming the worst and feeling like absolute shit.

Her throat aches with the familiar sensation of sobs building up. If she starts crying, it's going to show weakness. Dinah will hear. Other prisoners might hear. It'll prove that she definitely won't be lasting in this place for long. Yet no matter how hard she tries, she can't hold it in. The warm liquid spills out of her tear ducts as she gasps for breath, whimpering softly like an injured puppy. This was a mistake. This isn't her. This isn't what she intended.

When she encounters Lauren, she has a nasty feeling that the other girl will be with "Ramos." They will be all over each other, Lauren will be whispering the same phrases into her new girlfriend's ear that she whispered into Camila's not too long ago. And that girl will fall in love with her, if she hasn't already. Her ex will ignore her forever, and she will be entirely alone for her entire sentence.

Taylor is dead from her impulsive actions. Lauren doesn't give a fuck about her anymore. She's stuck in an institution with awful criminals, sick heartless people who committed felonies and aren't ashamed of it.

If this isn't rock bottom, she is terrified of what is.

*****

After calling Camila's name back to her, Lauren holds her gaze with the girl. It feels like everyone else in the room has disappeared, their chattering fading out completely as she can only pay attention to her soulmate. Her heart races and her lips begin to turn up into a small smile until she recalls their last conversation. The one that ended with a frying pan being smashed upon her head, causing a fucking brain bleed, a seizure, and an emergency surgery. Not to mention a jagged scar along her palm from the knife that pinned her hand to the wall. There's no way that some higher power from above has brought Camila here to fulfill the fantasies that would help her fall asleep at night. She can't possibly be here to forgive Lauren and give her a second chance, that's just ridiculous considering all the irreversible pain she caused her. No, she is definitely here to finish what she started. Whether it be with another blunt force trauma to the head or with one of the ghetto prison weapons that the inmates manage to craft on their own, if Lauren isn't careful, she's going to end up bleeding out at her former lover's hands.

Lauren's grin fades and she turns around, pushing past a couple others as she speed-walks back to her cell. She'd run, but she would rather not give a guard an excuse to tackle her. Arriving back in her cell, she's almost out of breath, both from how fast she walked and also how much Camila's presence frightened her. The prison really should take initiative and open some sort of workout area or program for the inmates, she's gotten quite out of shape.

Her cellmate who sits on the bottom bunk bed glances up at her from the magazine. She's reading some sort of food magazine—before she was convicted, she loved to bake. She always rants to Lauren about how there should be a supervised kitchen for the inmates to bake, or some sort of cooking class. Or, hell, even an Easy Bake Oven would be sufficient at this point. Ever since she arrived at the prison, she has been attempting to get into the kitchen staff with no luck.

Maybe it's because she has such a short sentence. Arriving at the prison a month before Lauren, she only has 11 months left in her sentence. Being part of a small local organization that fights for the rights of animals, Ally Brooke Hernandez heard that the pet store mistreats their dogs. So she drove over to the pet store immediately with huge purses, and was caught stuffing multiple miniscule puppies into her handbags and attempting to make a run for it. The police caught her, and the judge sentenced her to a year in prison. It's a little harsh for someone with such good intentions.

It's also pretty fucked up how someone with a heart like Ally's had the misfortune of being assigned Lauren as a cellmate. When she first received the news, she was absolutely terrified. Practically everyone in the prison loves Ally because of how sweet she is. No one can hate her. But she knew about Lauren's killing record, and figuring that she is absolutely psychotic, she began to believe her days were numbered. Imprisoned for trying to rescue puppies, and killed in prison under very unfortunate circumstances—this isn't how she imagined her life to turn out.

To her surprise, Ally found out on the first day Lauren moved in that she was actually quite pleasant. She doesn't fit the typical serial killer profile at all. The two of them have shared some nice conversations, and Lauren has a deep, interesting mind. One day, Ally asked her cellmate if she was falsely accused, believing that there's no way a girl as seemingly normal as this can be the culprit of the murders of 27 innocents.

"Can I ask you something?" Ally began her question with a light tone. The two of them had been reading silently on their own beds.

"Of course, what's up?" Lauren asked.

"Did you really do it?"

"Yep," Lauren answered without getting the slightest bit offended. There was a hint of pride in her tone as well. The two of them returned to their reading and the subject was never mentioned again.

After Lauren clarified that she was, indeed, a psychopath, Ally harbored mixed feelings about the girl. She truly is a nice girl, and she believes that Lauren would probably protect her if any of the inmates ever came after her. But on the other hand, she feels sick to her stomach having to share a cell with this murderer. There isn't anything she can do about it, though. No cell change requests, nothing. She can't imagine anyone in their right mind would want to willingly share a cell with Lauren. And if she suddenly expresses contempt and rudeness toward the girl, she doesn't doubt that Lauren could and would fuck her up. So she remains friendly with her. It's all she can do. Only 11 more months before she never has to associate herself with murderers and psychopaths ever again.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Ally shuts her magazine with a sympathetic, worried frown. "What happened?"

Lauren takes a seat beside Ally on her bed, heaving a sigh. She had ranted about Camila to Ally a couple times before. "I'm about to die. She's here to kill me."

Furrowing her eyebrows, Ally squints at Lauren. She knew this girl had to be a little... off in the head... to kill so many people without a second thought, but now there are delusions? She's a little worried. "Who? Lauren, are you... feeling okay?"

"I'm not crazy, Ally," Lauren rolls her eyes, sensing the tiny girl's disbelief in her voice. "My ex is here. The one who almost killed me. She's here to finish what she started, I know it."

"Really?" Ally frowns. In the back of her mind, she wonders if this is a hallucination or if it actually happened. Nonetheless, she has to console the distraught girl. "What makes you so certain? It could be a coincidence. From what you told me, I wouldn't be surprised if she.... snapped. A lot of bad things happened at once and it's normal for people who experience that to lose themselves a little."

"It sounds like you're the one who's the therapist, not me," the Cuban chuckles, shaking her head. "Maybe you're right. I... I just need to be careful. Avoid her while I can. Looks like I won't be showering or eating for the next few days."

"Lauren, that's unnecessary.. and unsanitary," the convicted puppy snatcher scrunches her face with disgust at the idea of the girl she has to share her cell with not showering for days. "I think you should talk to her. Find her in one of the rec rooms where there's a guard around, she wouldn't pull anything with them around. Living with paranoia will kill you before your ex does."

"...Maybe you're right," Lauren pulls Ally into a quick hug and then stands up. "Thanks. This is why everyone around here likes you so much, dude. I wish you were staying longer. But at the same time I don't 'cause you don't belong here."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Ally smiles up at her, picking up her magazine and going back to reading about cupcake recipes.

Lauren ascends the bunk to her top bed and, despite the troubling events of the day, manages to fall asleep in minutes.

The next morning, she decides that Ally was right. Lauren herself has never been someone who enjoys when people make assumptions, so perhaps it isn't entirely fair of her to be presumptuous about Camila's intentions, if there are any. She can seek her out at breakfast in the cafeteria, since everyone is gathered in one area and easy to locate, and size her up. All of her life, she's been exceptionally talented at reading people, which made her both a good therapist and also a little manipulative as well. In one conversation with this girl, she'll be able to tell if she's here to kill her or not. Camila was never that good of a liar to begin with, and given their history and closeness, Lauren will definitely be able to tell if she's hiding anything. If she discerns that her intentions are to end her life, Lauren can actively avoid her and prepare to defend herself if necessary. Not like she'd ever cause harm to the other girl, just enough to protect herself. If not, then maybe they can start anew. Maybe her fantasies weren't so far-fetched after all.

After making her way through the line and retrieving the generic processed prison food on a tray, Lauren scopes out the room to find Camila. She makes eye contact with Maritza, who sits at their regular table and blows her a kiss with a wink, but then locates her ex sitting with the Polynesian inmate. When she ignores her "girlfriend" to head over to Camila's table, Maritza's rage levels skyrocket. But she keeps the anger inside, deciding to take it out on Lauren later when they fuck.

Upon Lauren setting her tray on the table and taking a seat across from Camila, Dinah instantaneously stands up. "I'll leave you two alone," she mutters, hurriedly walking away from the pair.

Scooting over to the place where Dinah had been sitting, Lauren and Camila stare at each other in a somewhat awkward silence. Neither of them want to be the one to speak up first in fear of what the other will say. Lauren is scared that Camila hates her and might throw the pancake on her tray at her, and Camila is scared that Lauren wants nothing to do with her anymore and has come to tell her exactly that.

But neither of them gather the guts to speak first. They sit in silence, taking small bites of their food although both of them have lost their appetites. Camila pokes at the disgusting substance the cafeteria claims to be "oatmeal" with her wooden spoon—the prison doesn't provide plastic silverware in fear of the utensils being modified into weapons. She watches as Lauren peels an orange, her gaze moving to the hand with the massive scar on it. Recovery must have been a bitch.

"Like my battle wound?" Lauren startles Camila. She must have caught her staring. "It kind of looks like a lightning bolt. If only it meant I could go away to Hogwarts."

Camila averts her gaze to Lauren's eyes. Her hypnotizing, green oceans. Right now, it's hard to maintain the eye contact. How the hell did she do this for an entire year of her life?

"Yeah, I can see it," Camila agrees. Picking up her pancake, she nibbles on the edges nervously. What if news somehow reached the prison about her murdering Taylor? What if Lauren's parents finally decided to pay a visit to her and informed their daughter about her ex's actions? There's no way she could pretend to be so calm, though. She would have pounced yesterday during dinner if that had been the case. Or maybe she is so cold, so cunning that she is calculating a slower, more painful way for Camila to die.

The look in Lauren's eyes seems to indicate ignorance regarding the issue. She wonders how the girl would react if she told her about pushing Taylor out of a window. It's sort of ironic how their roles have switched. Now, Camila is the one who hides the secret. And as long as she can control it, it's going to stay a secret. This is exactly what Lauren did to her, this is just her way of getting even.

Thinking about Taylor nauseates her. Camila sets the pancake down on her tray, pushing it away with a frown of disgust. She does her best not to picture the younger Jauregui's dead body on the pavement. Lauren interprets her expression as a reaction to the food.

"The food here tastes like cardboard but you get used to it," she shrugs, finishing her orange and moving on to the oatmeal. "After I saw you last night, I kept trying to figure out... why are you here, Camila? I can name two illegal things you did in the year we were together, and both involved pirating music. Unless you got caught for that, which would be shitty."

"No... it wasn't for that," Camila shakes her head, staring down at her food. She can't bring herself to look at the girl across from her in the eye as she is further reminded of her actions.

"What was it, then?" Lauren frowns. "You.. don't have to tell me if you don't want. If it upsets you."

"I killed someone," Camila blurts it out, the volume of her voice almost a little too loud. The inmates sitting at the table next to them glance back at her, roll their eyes, and then go back to their conversations. Lauren looks like a deer in headlights with this information. Besides their incident after Camila figured out her secrets, she can't picture this girl killing anyone. Not even a fly. It had to be in self-defense or something... but if it had been in self-defense, she wouldn't be imprisoned. The only other possibility she considers is accidental manslaughter. Texting and driving, drinking and driving, something stupid and reckless. But Camila isn't reckless either.

"Camila... holy shit, I'm so sorry," out of habit, Lauren reaches for Camila's hand and holds it. The other girl allows her to do this for a second, but then retracts her arm, her eyes visibly swelling with tears. "What happened...?"

Taking a few deep breaths, Camila blinks the tears away. Crying in the middle of the cafeteria would not be the best first impression on the other inmates. She's already scared that they heard her crying in the night. Dinah slept through it—or so she claims—but others may have overheard. If she begins crying now, she'll be labeled as weak. Others will target her, knowing she won't fight back. So she takes a minute to recompose herself, closing her eyes and imagining pictures of puppies, kittens, and everything cute in the world, then says, "I was at the club and this guy offered me a drink. I just assumed it was drugged... it probably wasn't... but I lost it. I... I wasn't in a good place, Lauren."

"He probably did—"

"No, he probably didn't. You don't need to try to reassure me, I know it was wrong and now this is my punishment," Camila shakes her head and sighs. She had rehearsed this story in her head so many times last night, even whispering it under her breath to herself in the showers this morning. If it hadn't been for the planned story, her lie would have been more obvious. Lauren can sense there's something Camila isn't telling her, but she buys the story of her being mentally unstable and killing a man.

"Camila... why are you talking to me? Why are you opening up to me as if you didn't want to kill me the last time we talked?" Lauren asks directly. Even she is stumped by this girl's motives and reasoning.

"I'm still mad at you, Lauren. A part of me always will be, no one can ever move on from that. What you did is so, so fucked up, and I can't believe that you revel in your actions," Camila is blunt and honest in her answer, and although it isn't what Lauren wanted to hear, she admires her bravery. "I'm not ever going to forgive you, and I won't ever forget. But I also believe what you said about your feelings being real. A part of me might always be mad but a part of me will always love you, too. And strangely enough, being around you is the first time I've felt calm in this fucked up place. Sinu and Alejandro made me come home, but it wasn't really home. You feel like home."

"I understand that you're mad. Are you joking about that last part though?" the older girl is still lost. "I want it to be true. I've missed you so fucking much, Camz."

Camz. Hearing her old nickname from Lauren's own voice comforts her further. It feels like old times... if only they weren't wearing prison uniforms. "I mean it. Who is Ramos?"

"No one, now that you're here," Lauren assures her.

"No really... was she your girlfriend or something?"

"I've been sleeping with her. You have to understand, I thought I'd never see you again, but now you're here she's nothing to me," she glances at Maritza who has her back turned. "Promise."

"I'm not jealous, it's okay," Camila says. She imagines how the public would react if the media somehow got ahold of information that her and Lauren are seeing each other again. That she is still in love with Lauren, even through all of the fucked up things that she did. She can picture the psychiatrists on the news stating that she is in need of a mental evaluation. Some might call it a form of Stockholm Syndrome. But to Camila it's just love. Simple as that. As Lauren said herself the night of her proposal, the universe would always rearrange itself so they would collide again. It was fated from the start.

A buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the meal time. "I have to talk to Maritza... I'll find you later, okay?" Lauren tells Camila. She can't emphasize how much she would love to sit with the girl and catch up. Hear how she has been and make up for all of the lost time. But she has business to attend to—she's not about to two-time anyone. Her heart belongs to Camila. It always has, and it always will.

"Sure," Camila smiles and the two of them part ways. "I'll see you soon."

Lauren is comforted by the fact that she really means it.

*****

"Who was that puta at breakfast?" Maritza pants between kisses.

Her and Lauren lay on the floor of the chapel behind the podium, one of the few places in the prison they can fuck with low chances of being caught. Their prison uniforms are thrown to the side, and they wear nothing except their underwear. Lauren is on top, her hands wandering underneath the fabric of Maritza's panties as they make out.

"No one," the Cuban assures her as she sucks on her bottom lip.

"It didn't look like no one," Maritza sounds angry and doubtful, pulling away from her girlfriend to glare at her.

"I promise you. It's no one," Lauren runs a hand through the other girl's hair before pulling her back down for more kisses. "You're the only person who matters to me."

"Prove it."

Kissing her way down to Maritza's center, she spreads her legs and removes her panties. Lauren swirls her clit in tiny circles with her tongue, every motion eliciting moans from the other girl. She's talented in the affairs of pleasuring girls—it doesn't take long for Maritza to unravel under her touch.

"Ohhhh fuck Lauren," Maritza curses as Lauren begins to thrust two of her fingers into her wetness. Her fingers tangle in the Cuban's dark brown hair, her fists clenching the closer she gets.

Lauren moves up to kiss her, her left hand still thrusting into the other girl with force. "Don't stop, baby," Maritza whines at the sudden lack of stimulation to her clit.

Smirking, Lauren wraps her right hand around the Colombian's throat as she curls the fingers on her other hand to tease her g-spot. Maritza's moans are mixed with coughs as she is sent over the edge, her walls contracting over the other girl's fingers. Sexual asphyxiation has been known to lead to better orgasms—soon, her moans have escalated to slightly stifled screams as the full impact of the climax hits her. Though her body begins to come down from the orgasm by her heart rate slowing down and her muscles relaxing, Lauren's grip still remains tight around her throat. In fact, it's getting tighter.

This isn't sexual asphyxiation at all. She's being strangled.

"Stop, I can't breathe," Maritza coughs. Lauren brings up the hand that was pleasuring her and squeezes her throat with it. Stars and a curtain of black around the edges threaten to completely cloud her vision. She tries to hit and kick Lauren with her hands and legs, but most of her strength has already been depleted from the lack of oxygen.

She can't fight any longer. She feels lightheaded, weak, and her life is slipping away from her. She isn't going to win, so she gives up and allows unconsciousness to overcome her.

Lauren watches Maritza's eyes roll into the back of her head and the color fade slightly from her skin. Under her grip, she feels the girl's pulse weaken, and keeps ahold of her neck until it has completely disappeared.

Retracting her hand, a grin creeps onto Lauren's lips, her heart pounding with excitement. It's been too long since she has last killed, she almost forgot how much of a thrill it is to watch someone die. This is the first time she has strangled someone to death, too—being able to literally feel her heartbeat dying out was exhilarating. When people are addicted to drugs, they'll do almost anything to get a fix. After addicts recover, they convince themselves that the drugs were ruining their life, swearing to never touch them again. But all it takes is one moment, one hit, to fall into the addiction again. Lauren's drug is murder. And she never wants to stop again.

She fixes up a contraption consisting of a curtain rope from one of the windows and one of the chairs from the back room of the chapel to paint the image of a hanging. A suicide. It's not perfect and her fingerprints are everywhere, but the security officers wouldn't be able to give less of a shit about how sketchy the crime scene is. Even some deaths that are clearly physical attacks from other inmates, like stabbings, are written off as suicides. Here, Lauren is unstoppable. Her sentence is already for life, so the worst thing that could happen is getting sent to maximum security. But she won't get caught. She's smarter than the rest of them. The prison is the perfect place to carry out her sick desires, and some people might even think she is doing the world a favor by killing criminals.

"Stupid clingy fucking bitch," Lauren spits, taking one last look at her work before she exits the chapel. Now, she has nothing to worry about. She can focus her attentions on Camila once again. And she'll destroy anyone who gets in her way.


	5. Chapter 5

Her first murder wasn't planned.

What had started as a fun night out on the town with her friends in LA quickly derailed into a disaster. The night after her graduation from grad school, where she earned her master's in Psychology to pursue her dreams of becoming a therapist, Lauren flew out to California to treat herself and spend a week with her friends, Brit and Ashley.

The first few nights were a wild blur, filled with lots of booze, joints, and drunken kisses with strangers. It was reminiscent of welcome week of her undergrad, except with less puking and alcohol poisoning. The fourth night of their party marathon, Brit and Ashley invited their friend Keana to join them. Keana is a grunge, hipster, "good vibes only", bicurious model with an attractive face. So basically the perfect type of friend for Lauren. In fact, Ashley's hidden motivations were to set the two girls up, believing they would make wonderful girlfriends. She knew Lauren hadn't been in a serious relationship in a while, and figured that it could be a graduation gift of sorts.

Lauren and the model hit it off immediately the moment she stepped through the door. There was undeniable attraction both ways, but Lauren wasn't sure if it was anything beyond that. Attraction can be present without chemistry. The girls lit up a couple joints and then headed off to an underground night club.

Brit and Ashley couldn't have been more obvious about trying to hook the other girls up—upon arriving at the club, they practically pushed Lauren and Keana on top of one another and then disappeared into the crowd.

"Fucking idiots," Lauren rolled her eyes as she watched her two friends wiggle between sweaty bodies to reach the center of the dance floor. She turned back to the pretty girl she had just met and told her, "I think they want us to fuck."

"Do you want us to fuck?" Keana asked, her airy voice giggling as she placed her hand on the small of the Cuban's back. "I usually go for dick, but I'd make an exception for you aaaaanyday."

The more they interacted, the less of a future Lauren could envision with this girl. Keana reminded her of a freshman sorority girl in college, whose "long term goals" were to get as drunk as possible every night. She needed someone with ambition, someone who knew what they wanted and chased after it. But hooking up with this girl wouldn't be equivalent to signing a marriage contract. Lauren speculated that Keana wouldn't be the type of girl to get attached after one night in bed, and after a long final semester in school, she deserved this one night of casual sex with a smoking hot model.

"Let me buy us some drinks babe," Lauren grabbed the other girl's hand that was resting on her back and kneaded her small fingers in with her own. The two headed over to the bar, and after 5 shots on Lauren's end, the clouded perception from the intoxication made the possibility of banging Keana even more appealing. It also removed any of her cautious caretaker characteristics that defined her as the designated friend that could take care of you if you were drunk. She stopped keeping track of the amount of shots Keana was downing and began to picture herself straddling the model's face and riding it until she came.

Being drunk skews one's perception of time. Somehow, they had moved from the bar to the dance floor, and grinded on each other for god knows how long. And then they made out—sloppily, of course, given their levels of intoxication. It might have been ten minutes, thirty minutes, or an hour on the dance floor; after an unknown amount of time, the loud pounding of the bass and Lauren's kisses no longer fueled Keana. The room was spinning, her head was light, her face was numb, and it was at that moment she knew that she had one shot too many. Or maybe five.

"I can't," Keana slurred, hardly able to form a single word. She leaned all of her body weight on Lauren, depending completely on the other girl to stand since she couldn't do that on her own. "Spinning... everything's spinning... I don't feel..."

These words sobered Lauren up to a certain extent. She could sense that Keana was blackout drunk, and she had a nasty feeling that something unfortunate and gross was about to happen.

Before Lauren could haul her over to an area away from other people where she could sit down, it was too late. Keana's lips parted, disgusting gagging noises resonating from the back of her throat as vomit poured out of her mouth onto Lauren and the floor.

And now she felt almost completely sober. Lauren could deal with puke to a certain extent—she would hold a friend's hair back if necessary—but this is the first time the substance has actually touched her. Swallowing some bile that made its way up her throat in reaction to Keana's throwing up, all Lauren could do was stand still and allow the girl to finish. People tend to be very proactive when it comes to reacting to someone else vomiting; everyone had already moved away, creating a small clearing in the dance floor as soon as they noticed what was happening. Brit and Ashley watched from the corner with frowns at this image. They wanted the girls to hook up, not to throw up...

It felt like an eternity before Keana's heaving ceased, but once it did, her body went limp as she lost consciousness. Lauren had trouble managing the dead weight along with the puke that stained half of her body, and a large part of her wanted to cry. This was supposed to be her graduation weekend, hercelebration... why did they have to bring along this mess of a girl with the superficial hopes of them hooking up?

Her friends scurried over to Lauren and were quick to hail a cab to bring them back to the house. The entire ride back, Lauren wouldn't talk to anyone. She sat with Keana's limp body across her lap, not moving a muscle and breathing through her mouth to avoid the retched smell.

"Dude Lauren, we're so sooooo sooooo sorry," Brit apologized profusely as she assisted Ashley in dragging Keana out of the cab. "We didn't think this would happen, she's usually super good about never over-drinking..."

"Shit, you're covered..." Ashley gagged at the sight of the slightly chunky brown substance covering Lauren's dress. "You go ahead, go shower and we'll take care of Keana."

"Yeah," Lauren muttered under her breath, pushing past her friends and heading straight to the bathroom. She knew her friends had the best intentions when it came to inviting the other girl, they could never have predicted the night would make such an unpleasant turn. She felt like it wasn't exactly fair to be angry at them, so she attempted to focus on other thoughts as she stepped in the shower and allowed the hot water to wash her clean.

Emerging from the bathroom wearing only a towel, she found Brit and Ashley sitting in the guest room where Lauren was staying. Keana laid under the covers, positioned on her side in case she might vomit in her sleep, and the two girls wore expressions of worry and guilt.

"Once again, we're so—" Brit began to apologize again until Lauren cut her off.

"No, stop apologizing Brit, it's ok. Am I pissed about her puking all over me and ruining the night? Yes, who wouldn't be. Maybe it was my fault too, I kept buying her drinks. Let's just move on, tomorrow we can send her on her way and go back to partying. I'm not going to let this ruin the week," Lauren shook her head and reassured the girls, who sighed visible breaths of relief in response to her mindset.

"We put her in here if that's ok with you... the bed is pretty big so you'll be able to sleep on the other side and she's facing the wall in case she does wake up and puke. Can you just watch her for a little bit and make sure she's breathing every now and then?" Ashley requested, speaking with a tone similar to one a person would use when requesting something to royalty.

"Of course."

With that, the girls gave Lauren a sheepish, sympathetic smile before leaving the room so the girl could sleep. Shutting the door, Lauren let the towel drop from her body as she dressed herself in an oversized t-shirt. After turning the lights off, she stationed a pillow in the middle of the bed to establish boundaries and then rolled over, exhaustion overcoming her from the tiring night.

She's awakened by a warm liquid splashing on her arm and the familiar sounds of gagging. This is exactly what she was dreading, she had a feeling that Keana wasn't going to stay facing the side away from here. Lauren reached out for the lamp beside the bed, catching a glimpse of the clock to see that she had only been asleep for maybe thirty minutes. She jumped out of the covers, standing on her feet and backing away to avoid any potential residual vomit.

However, upon closer inspection, Keana was not laying on her side anymore. She was flat on her back, her body convulsing as she choked on her own vomit. The chunky brown substance flooded out of her mouth and dripped down the sides of her mouth as she struggled for breath. Yet Lauren made no move to assist her and roll her on her side. It wasn't that she was paralyzed with shock or afraid—she was watching this girl choke, completely calm.

All her life, Lauren had been commended for her good heart. If asked, her friends would describe her as a kind soul, a one-of-a-kind person that only ever has the best intentions in mind. The reason she studied to become a therapist was because she dreamed of helping people with their problems. No one would ever guess for her to be the person to stand there and watch someone die when she's in a position where she could help.

She's been troubled by dark urges her entire life. Even as a young child, she would sit in front of the TV and watch the news. She'd hear about violent shootings and murders, and instead of feeling remorseful and disgusted by these acts, she would feel intrigued. For all her life, she labeled these thoughts as simple fascination with morbidities. Everyone has them—that's why people rubberneck when there's a car accident on the highway, and why people are so invested in serial killers. She remembers reading an article about how someone was stabbed in public, and most of the people just stared and watched while only a few initiated any action to call for help. Lauren thought these morbid curiosities were present in everyone else's minds. But with her first experience with someone dying in front of her, it became clear that her urges went a level further than just morbid fascination.

Keana's eyes located Lauren. The attractive Cuban she had been pursuing earlier in the night now stood in the corner, watching her choke on her own vomit with a calm expression. As she gave up and took her last breaths that filled her lungs with more vomit, she could have sworn that she saw the tiniest smirk crawl onto the corners of Lauren's lips.

Her body stopped convulsing and the flow of vomit ceased from her mouth. Keana's chestnut eyes glazed over—although she appeared to stare up at the ceiling, Lauren knew that nothing was there. Heading to the opposite side of the bed, she felt for a pulse on Keana's wrist. Nothing.

Lauren glanced at the clock. If she were a doctor in a hospital, this is when she would announce the model's death. She'd say something along the lines of, "Time of death, 3:27."

3:27, June 10, 2020. The time and date of her first murder. She made a mental note of those important numbers.

A sensation of power rushed over her as she observed Keana's corpse, almost like adrenaline. This was her doing. All Lauren had to do to save her was roll her over on her side to let the vomit come out. She was fully capable of saving her, but she made the conscious decision to let her die. And she didn't question her choices. She didn't regret anything, she doesn't feel any sorrow for her friends' friend who laid dead in their guest room bed.

Because of her, Keana won't ever fill those bicurious needs and have sex with a girl.

Because of her, Keana won't ever get married or have children.

Because of her, Keana will never take another breath or live to see another day.

Keana is dead. She killed Keana.

Lauren repeated those two statements in her head, growing increasingly excited and proud the more they sunk in. She began to wonder if she suffered before she died, silently hoping she did.

The knowledge that she ended a life made her feel better than any hit of a bong. It made her feel better than any amount of alcohol, any drug, any graduation diploma, any orgasm. This was a sensation she could never let go. She imagined that this is what it's like to do heroin—one time and you're hooked. And that was when Lauren knew this wouldn't be the first life she would end.

*****

She has no idea how long it will take for Maritza's body to be discovered. Other than Sundays, the chapel is not a busy place, which makes it the perfect place to have sex with someone. Or kill someone, in Lauren's case. Sitting in the recreation lounge in a chair, she reads a book from the library to pass the time.

The chaos starts after about an hour and a half. Whether someone stumbled upon her work on their way to fuck or pray, those details don't matter. Sounds of disturbance and worried, confused inmates fill the hallways as all of the guards receive a muffled message through their walkie talkies. Practically everyone in the prison drops what they are doing to investigate what is happening.

There hasn't been a prison death in a little over a month. The exact backstory behind the fight is unclear, but it ended with an inmate bashing another inmate's head against the wall in the bathroom continuously until they stopped breathing. Obviously the inmate who killed the other one was sent to maximum security, and it created quite a stir for a couple days. No one dwells on drama in the prison for too long. A fight breaks out, someone dies, a notorious public figure is sentenced to the prison—these things create excitement for a few days, and inmates lose interest as quickly as they gained it. When word traveled to Lauren about the murder, she was both amused and disgusted. Amused by the presence of death in prison, and disgusted by how stupid the inmate was to allow their emotions to rule their actions and kill them in such a public manner.

Sometimes she forgets that not everyone shares the same thought processes as her. Not everyone is as calculating and intelligent as her. They don't plan ahead, and in scenarios like that murder, their stupid actions lead to consequences that she wholeheartedly believes they deserve. People go to prison because they were dumb enough to get caught. It's a bit of an insult to Lauren's pride to carry around the knowledge that she wasn't cunning enough to avoid getting caught. Still, she sees herself as better than the other prisoners. She doesn't believe—she KNOWS she is more intelligent than any of these other fools, and could outsmart them any day. Which is why she's determined to carry out her plans, and get away with every single one of them.

Shutting her book, Lauren stands up and heads to the doorway where a crowd of other prisoners are blocking the view. Tapping an inmate's shoulder who stands in front of her, she inquires, "Hey, what happened?" As if she doesn't already know.

"They found a body. Hang on, they're coming through with it right now," the woman tells her.

"Do you know who it is?" Lauren asks as all of the inmates step aside to make room for the guards.

"I heard it's Ramos."

Lauren has to bite her lip to contain her excitement and stop herself from smiling. The guards make their way through the sea of curious prisoners, wheeling along a gurney with a black body bag on top. They ignore all questions and threaten any inmate who steps forward with being sent to max.

Regardless of the guards' threats, a gutsy inmate dives in front of the gurney, wrestling with the body bag until the corpse's head is revealed.

Every inmate in the room gasps. Guards pounce on the girl who pulled the body bag, forcefully shoving her down the hall to detain her in max. There's a lot of panic between everyone who saw the body and the guards who frantically attempt to pull the body bag over the corpse again, but all Lauren can focus on is her masterpiece.

Maritza's eyelids are still open, her black glassy eyes staring at nothing. The guards didn't care enough to shut her eyes, it appears. Her dark olive skin is bruised all along her throat from the strangulation, with thin rope indentations across the center.

Witnessing everyone's panic and reactions to her work fuels her. She wishes that she had a chainsaw so she could murder every single one of them. She wants to fill the room with screams and paint the white walls red with blood, until there isn't an inch of white remaining. She dreams of sitting atop all of their dead bodies with Camila, and finally being truly alone with the girl again. Yet she knows that her fantasies of mass murder could never become a reality. No one is able to get away with mass murder, which is a shame, given how satisfying it would be.

As Maritza is rolled away for good, the crowd disperses. Lauren returns to her seat with her book. It'll be hard to focus on reading when she's so pleased with herself, though.

That night at dinner, Lauren sits alone a table in the corner of the cafeteria. She was unable to find Camila. Part of her fears that the girl came to her senses and changed her mind about wanting to be with Lauren again. There's nothing she can do but wait for now. From the other tables, she overhears Maritza's name mumbled amongst inmates. The dead Latina who "hung herself" is the main topic in the cafeteria for tonight.

"Lauren, I heard what happened, are you okay?!" Camila rushes up to Lauren, setting her tray down on the table and embracing her tightly.

Lauren's heart speeds up, mainly out of fear. Camila is quiet and talented when it comes to sneaking up on her. When they used to live together, she would startle the older girl all the time. But as she processes that the figure clinging to her is Camila, her body relaxes and her heart rate slows down to a normal pace. Her face flushes with warmth as she sinks into Camila's hold. God, she missed this. They need to go to the chapel as soon as possible to make up for all of the time lost. It's been too long since they've touched one another, sexually and non-sexually.

"Hands to yourself, inmate," an angry guard's voice yells at Camila, scaring the smaller girl and causing her to jump back and break the hug. She takes a seat where she set her tray down on the table, across from Lauren.

If she was being honest with her answer to Camila's question, she would admit that she is doing better than ever. The clingy bitch is out of her way and no one stands between the two of them. Except for the no touching rule, of course. But she puts on a sad face, making her eyes water with tears to enhance the act. "She was one of the only people here that I could possibly call a 'friend' and I can't help but think I caused her to do this..." Lauren sniffles, a tear or two spilling out of her tear ducts.

"She did this after you talked to her? How did she react?" Camila frowns, glancing over at the guard to make sure he isn't watching. When the coast is clear, she reaches over the table and holds the Cuban's hand, giving it a light squeeze. "If you don't want to talk about this, we can talk about something else."

"No, it's ok... I told her that we should stop seeing each other. I explained that you were my girlfriend, I was still in love with you, still AM in love with you, and she didn't react well. She got angry and stormed out. I didn't think she'd... oh god," Lauren covers her face, stifling her crying. Several inmates stare at her.

"I really wish I could hug you right now, damn the guards," Camila sighs, feeling utterly helpless. "Can we go to my cell or something?"

"Yeah, that would be nice..." Lauren nods, wiping her eyes. The two girls stand up, dump their trays, and head to Camila's cell.

As soon as they are away from other people, sitting atop Camila's bottom bunk, Lauren wraps her arms around the younger girl and sinks into her touch. With her head against Camila's chest, listening to the soft thumps of her heartbeat, she begins crying again, only this time it's real.

"Let it out... it's ok, I'm here," Camila rubs Lauren's back, pulling her closer as her body shakes from her sobs. The last time she witnessed her like this was in the courtroom. She never imagined that she would be consoling Lauren in a prison cell.

"I missed you so fucking much," Lauren whimpers. A part of her still can't believe that Camila is actually with her in this moment. She wonders if she will fall asleep that night, and wake up to find out that her love has been transferred to another prison. Or find out that she was never really there at all, and this was just a sick hallucination her brain played on her. "Please don't ever leave me again, I don't think I could go another day without you. I can't fucking lose you or I think I'd die."

"We're both here for a long time, Lauren, I'm not going anywhere," Camila sighs. If she had kept her cool when she first discovered the secret, the two of them would be sharing this interaction in the comfort of their own home, not in the confines of a cell where there is little to no privacy. "I missed you too."

Tilting Lauren's chin upward with her fingers, Camila silences the girl's crying with a kiss. The moment their lips connect, for the first time in months, the two of them feel completely content. Lauren's tears slow, and now, the only thing that matters to her is this kiss. Usually, Camila's lips would taste like a fruity lip gloss. Now, as Lauren's tongue traces the outline of her plump mouth, they taste of nothing except a vague hint of the cafeteria food since she has no access to makeup. Makeup or no makeup, lip gloss or plain, Lauren isn't picky.

The two reposition themselves so they are laying on one another, with Lauren on top. Her hands wander under the cotton fabric of Camila's prison uniform, feeling every curve and the warmth of her skin. This is muscle memory for her. They used to lay unclothed under the covers for hours, doing nothing except kissing and exploring each other's bodies with their hands. The details of Camila's body are like muscle memory for Lauren. Everything is exactly how she remembered it.

She longs to remove the clothing that acts as a barrier to her and blocks Camila's natural beauty. Having gone months without experiencing her, Lauren has a lot of intimate, sexual frustration built up. Sure, she slept with Maritza a lot, but she never harbored any genuine feelings. The sole reason she chose Maritza was because the girl's physical characteristics and mannerisms reminded her of Camila. Maritza was like a cheap knockoff Chanel purse you could find in the alleys of Chinatown in New York, and Camila was like the real thing. And nothing can beat the real thing. Lauren finds that sex is a lot better when it's with someone that she loves. Otherwise, it is like she is masturbating with the other person's body. Sex with Camila was always deeper than that. They connected further than the physical level, something that hook-ups would lack.

But she knows that she has to be patient. It's bullshit, given how long she has been waiting for something she wasn't even sure would come to her. And now that it's here, she has to wait even longer. Camila's cell is not the setting they will compensate for all the time lost. Dinner will end any minute, inmates will return to their cells, and Lauren will be forced to return to her own unless she wants to spend a week in max. She doesn't want to rush this, so she begrudgingly accepts that making out is the farthest they can go for now. Not like making out is unenjoyable. Her opinion about kissing Camila hasn't changed since the first time their lips made contact in the bar—she could do this for hours.

"Camila," Lauren lets out a breathy moan as the passion of the kiss deepens. The two of them stop kissing momentarily, their faces hovering inches away, and they do nothing but gaze at one another. The Cuban brushes a lock of hair that covers Camila's face so she can fully admire her. Camila's large eyes meet Lauren's with a half-lidded stare full of lust. Her lips, swollen and puffy, are slightly parted as she catches her breath. God, Lauren could almost start crying again from how beautiful she is.

"Hi," Camila mutters with a little giggle, her lips curling up into a smile that reveal her teeth. In pictures, she rarely smiles with her teeth, feeling self-conscious about them. But Lauren thinks that when she laughs and grins with her teeth, she is the most stunning.

"Hi," Lauren responds, unable to contain her own grin. She wants to freeze this moment and also the happiness that bursts inside of her, a feeling that she hasn't experienced in months. As she bends down to capture Camila's lips in another kiss, she's interrupted by a loud clear of the throat. She nearly gives herself a concussion from whacking her head when she quickly sits up. Thankfully, it's not a guard. It's only Camila's cell mate.

"Am I interrupting something?" Dinah asks in amusement as she watches Lauren fumble off of the bed, rubbing the sore area on her head. Camila covers her face with embarrassment. The tall inmate crosses her arms and stands at the doorway, waiting for Lauren to leave.

Once Lauren collects herself, she gives Camila an awkward wave goodbye and dashes out of the cell in almost record time. Dinah shakes her head; Lauren is usually very well put together, she's never witnessed the girl so flustered and messy. "You're into the strong, silent, murderous types huh?" Dinah turns to Camila who lays in the same spot, hiding under the covers.

"Shut up," Camila's voice is muffled as she continues to hide in embarrassment.

"You know she killed Ramos?" Dinah informs her as she climbs to her bed. Camila emerges from her covers, shocked by the statement.

"What?" Camila asks. "Where did you hear that? People have been saying it was a suicide, they found a rope and there were rope marks on her neck."

"I just figured," Dinah shrugs. "Probably thought it was the best way to get her off her ass and have you all to herself. Get rid of the baggage if you know what I mean. Jauregui killed 27 people, do you really think she'd stop in prison?"

"You just figured? ...K-Keep your assumptions to yourself, Dinah, I'm going to sleep," Camila feels herself getting defensive and offended by the other girl's assumptions. Still, she can't help but wonder if Dinah has a point. Why would she be getting so defensive if there wasn't some type of logical basis and truth behind the accusation? Camila may be in love with Lauren, however she can't allow herself to push her negative traits under the table to justify her feelings.

Camila witnessed how much murder pleased Lauren firsthand when she killed Austin. Plus, she's smart enough to know how to frame a homicide as a suicide. This is a plausible scenario that she should have considered. Whether Lauren killed Maritza or not, it's done. The idea of Lauren killing someone for her is terrifying, but at the same time, Camila is almost flattered by it. She pushes that thought out of her head rather quickly. In order to keep sane and not fall into darkness, she has to maintain her humanity. Otherwise there's no telling what she will get into.


	6. Chapter 6

Ashley Frangipane, better known as Halsey around the prison, stands alone in the kitchen early in the morning as she prepares breakfast. The other inmates who are assigned to work in the kitchen won’t show up for another hour, but she enjoys this alone time. Before she was convicted, her two passions were music and cooking. One day as she was performing on the street with her guitar and an open case for tips, when someone insulted her musical ability, she snapped. She has a bit of a short temper, and this set her off for whatever reason. Bashing their head in with her guitar is the exact reason she is here today. Since the COs wouldn’t allow her to possess a guitar, given her track record with violence and the instrument, she resorted to cooking. After about two years in the prison, the original inmate in charge was released and she rose up to the position. Here in this kitchen with just herself and the food, she feels at peace. The chaos of the prison and morbid reality that she is sentenced to live the rest of her life out in this institution becomes lost in her passion for the art of cooking.

A knock on the door irritates her as she cuts up bananas and avocados for the breakfast she is prepping. Figuring it’s a CO, she doesn’t bother looking up and says, “Just preparing for this morning’s meal as usual, you know my routine.”

“It smells good. What is it?” a voice that Halsey doesn’t recognize answers. It doesn’t sound like any of the COs. Lifting her head to face the unknown figure, she raises her eyebrows in recognition. Lauren Jauregui. They have never talked to one another, but in this prison, it had been the most relevant name for months. Rumor is spreading that, about a week ago, she murdered Maritza Ramos. For a serial killer, however, she seems oddly normal.

“It’s a surprise,” Halsey responds. “What are you doing in here, Jauregui?”

Her voice annoys Lauren. And she doesn’t owe anyone an explanation, especially this plebian. Rolling her eyes, she doesn’t waste time for her next move. A large pot of boiling water sits on the stove, situated in the perfect position for Lauren’s motives.

Lauren’s not the strongest person physically, but she’s strong enough to grab the blue-haired girl by the back of her collar and push her face first into the scalding pot.

Her skull clashes with the bottom of the pan without any mercy, causing the liquid to turn crimson with Halsey’s blood. Unfortunately for her, it didn’t hit with enough force to fully render her unconscious. The boiling water feels as if her head has been submerged into Satan’s lair, with thousands of small, flaming knives stabbing themselves into each one of her pores. The pain is inexplicable and her screams are stifled by the water, no one can hear her except the girl that holds her under the water. She wishes for death but all she receives is pain, more excruciating pain until it’s so unbearable that she body finally shuts down.

All of Halsey’s limbs give out and she falls to the cold floor, taking the pot with her. Lauren steps back to avoid the blood water mixture that spills out across the floor. She doesn’t need to take the former kitchen leader’s pulse to verify that she is dead. Her entire face was burned off—that combined with the blunt force trauma guarantees death. It was certainly quick, but not at all painless.

Lauren crouches down, examining her fine work. Any normal person would be repulsed by the sight of someone whose face was burned off by boiling water. Sure, it’s definitely gross, but to her it’s beautiful. It’s empowering. She wishes that she could stay here for a few more minutes, taking in the satisfaction of another person killed but she has to flee back to her cell before anyone else enters.

The guards may catch on and realize that this girl’s death was no accident, but it’s doubtful that they will take any action. As long as the death can be brushed off as an accident and they don’t need to involve other authorities in an investigation, that is exactly what the administration will do. If any word of a case of serial prison murders were to reach the outside, the institution’s funding would decrease, as well as the staff’s pay. And to them, money is everything. They can claim that Halsey tripped conveniently into the pot of boiling water and died. It’s very unlikely and some people experienced with the subject of physics may argue that it’s actually impossible for her to accidentally trip and die in such a way, but in a week, this will be nothing.

*****

“….And why should we choose you to be the head cook, Jauregui?” Sitting behind his desk, middle-aged CO kicks his feet on top of the surface, folding his hands behind his head and staring at Lauren who is seated confidently with perfect body posture across from him. “Usually we don’t put violent psychopaths in the kitchen at all.”

“I’m a very talented cook with a lot of knowledge of the kitchen but I’m sure you’ve got plenty of inmates who fit in that category. What makes me stand out is that I’m assertive. I’m the best damn leader you’ll find and I can get meals done in half the time that Frangipane did. They’ll taste better, too,” Lauren’s charisma shines through her response effortlessly. Public speaking and interviews have never been troublesome for her. If she hadn’t gone into psychology, business would have surely been her second choice. There’s no doubting that she would have gone far, especially with her psychopathic tendencies. The best CEOs usually have a psychopathic side. “Speaking of Frangipane, she killed someone from her short temper but you still put her in as the head. I might have killed 27 people but they weren’t ‘crimes of passion’ as you might say. I’m smart enough to know not to pull that shit in here and I don’t have a temper. I’m your best choice.”

The CO squints, studying Lauren in silence for a minute as he jots down some notes. That was quite a compelling persuasive speech. The points she brought up were all true, and he can’t deny them. “…Okay, you’re in. The minute I hear of any possible funny business, you’re out and into max, got it?”

“Yes sir, thank you,” her face breaks out in a wide grin. “A thank you cake will be on its way within the next day.”

“Mmmmmhm,” he shrugs nonchalantly, although the cake is now the thing he is going to look forward to most for the next day. “Before you leave, are you happy with the kitchen staff? What about adding Hernandez, your cell mate? She’s been bothering me about being put in the kitchen ever since she was sent here.”

Lauren ponders her adorable short friend, whose nose is constantly buried in cooking and baking magazines. There’s no doubt that she would excel as one of the cooks. Hell, she would probably be the best choice for the head cook. She thinks about how ecstatic Ally would be if she returned to the cell with news that she was able to pull some strings and get her on the staff as well. That little ball of sunshine would bounce with joy and bake the entire prison cupcakes to celebrate. Despite the fact that she does genuinely care for her friend, she shakes her head. “The amount of staff right now is perfect. One more and they’d just be in the way. Hernandez is leaving anyway, she can deal with not being in the kitchen for a few more months.”

“If you say so,” the CO nods and logs into his computer, signaling for his time with Lauren to be finished. She promptly stands up and exits the office, heading to the recreation room where she finds Camila, Ally, and Dinah sitting in a small circle of chairs and chatting.

Dinah is basically Camila’s best friend, aside from Lauren. And since Lauren and Camila spend all their time together, Ally and Dinah hang out with the two as well. They have bonded quite well, and none of them ever imagined that they would be able to form friendships as real as this in a prison. The only exception is that Dinah has taken a dislike to Lauren. She never got good vibes from her, and her dislike has evolved since the Maritza incident. When news spread about Halsey’s unfortunate “accident” in the kitchen, the tall girl was able to catch on that it wasn’t truly an accident. It was another victim of Lauren’s, and now she doesn’t trust the girl at all. She does everything she can to avoid being in a room alone with fear that the Cuban girl may emerge from a corner and shank her when she isn’t paying attention.

As Lauren approaches the group and pulls up a chair, she is greeted by two smiles. Dinah simply pretends to be interested in her nails and subconsciously scoots farther away from the girl, which Lauren notices but chooses to ignore.

“Hey baby, how did it go?” Camila checks to confirm that the guard in the room isn’t paying attention, and extends her arm to hold her girlfriend’s hand and rub it with her thumb. Ally finds their relationship weirdly cute, while Dinah openly gags and plays it off as teasing the two.

“I got it!” Lauren announces excitedly. Ally bounces in her seat, clapping her hands with a huge smile.

Camila is beyond happy to see her girlfriend achieving success, even in a setting as bleak as a prison. For whatever reason, the Cuban girl is passionate about this position. It’s all she has been talking about since Halsey died a week ago. She practiced her speech with Camila countless times, only stopping when she would be shut up by a kiss. She was a little doubtful that Lauren would earn the position given her notoriety and psychopathic status, but as always, she never fails to amaze.

“Awwwww, I’m so happy for you,” Camila sneaks a kiss on Lauren’s lips and quickly pulls away before the guard can see and yell at them. “See? I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

“Yaaaayyyy!! The food is going to taste SOOO great now,” Ally congratulates her. While she is sad that they didn’t award her the position, she’s a good sport. She’s genuinely happy for her friend.

“Ally, I know how much you wanted to be in the kitchen,” Lauren starts and notices the shorter girl’s eyebrows raise in hope. She knows how Ally expects her to continue this statement. That poor girl… to her dismay, it’s the exact opposite. “I tried so hard… I begged the CO but he said they don’t need any more people on the staff. I’m sorry.”

Ally’s hopeful expression fades to a defeated one, similar to an injured puppy. “It’s ok, Lauren..” she smiles sadly, always trying to stay optimistic even in situations like this. “I know you did all that you could. Don’t sweat it!”

“I’m glad you understand,” Lauren pats her friend’s shoulder.

“Don’t you guys think Halsey died a little weird?” Dinah speaks up for the first time since Lauren’s arrival. “Tripping into her boiling pot of water… that’s real weird if you ask me.”

It takes a lot of effort for Lauren to hide her hatred for the tall girl. It’s clear that Dinah has caught onto her, how long will it be until she starts openly accusing her of murdering Maritza and Halsey in front of Camila and Ally? She wouldn’t be surprised if she has already spoke up about her suspicions to Camila. It’s time like these where she hates being in the confines of the prison the most. There’s nothing she would like to do more than to drive a knife into Dinah’s eye socket, strangle her until she can feel her last breath of air, or stomp on her chest until it collapses.

But she can’t, for many reasons. Being in the prison is the primary reason, however Lauren also has a feeling that Dinah has some sort of self-protecting system set up where, if she is killed, Camila will immediately know that Lauren hasn’t tried to reform herself from her old ways at all. The Polynesian might not have the best grammar, but she is quite intelligent and has impeccable intuition. Camila wouldn’t be very pleased with her killing her new best friend. She’s already killed her little sister, that would be one strike too many. So all Lauren can do is smile through the internal pain, and play along with Dinah’s little game. In the end, Lauren will win it. She never loses.

Lauren laughs and turns Dinah’s statement into a joke. “Dude yeah, that would make a really sick segment on 1000 Ways To Die. I’m so serious, I wouldn’t be surprised if camera crews came here to film about it.”

“Yeah…” Dinah gives Lauren a smile so fake that it’s almost excruciating. A silent tension hangs over the group until a buzzer signals the start of lunch.

As everyone stands up and begins to head to the cafeteria, Dinah stays behind. “Lauren, lemme talk with you. We’ll catch up in a min.”

Lauren was looking forward to being able to rest her hand on Camila’s knee and maybe tease her a little under the table, but yet again, here Dinah is ruining her plans. “Sure,” she shrugs, pretending like it’s no big deal.

When it is obvious that Camila and Ally are far gone, Dinah is able to drop her facade and exhibit her true feelings toward the other girl. Her smile fades, she crosses arms, grits her jaw, clenches her fists, and glares at the Cuban. “I’m onto you, Jauregui.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lauren feigns innocence, raising her eyebrows and frowning as if she is genuinely confused and being accused out of the blue.

“You really think you can play dumb with me?” Dinah rolls her eyes. It takes all of her self-control to restrain herself from socking Lauren in the face repeatedly until all of her precious little teeth fall out and she’s forced to wear dentures. “You’re just making yourself look stupider now.”

“Do you really think that this is the best idea, sweetie? Confronting me like this? If your suspicions are right—and I’m not saying they are—don’t you think it would be smart to play nice? Take a page from Ally’s book. You might think you’re so smart for ‘figuring me out’ but clearly you still don’t have much going on up in that big, hollow head of yours,” Lauren smirks, feeling as if she has won this. She believes that this is a fight where she has the absolute upper hand, and Dinah is simply flailing her arms around in the dark.

“You just digging yourself into a deep hole, Jauregui. You’re so full of shit!” Dinah cackles in the shorter girl’s face, causing her smug expression to fill with anger when she sees that the tall girl isn’t threatened by her. “I know you aren’t bout to pull anything with me and you know you won’t either. You aren’t a threat. Even if you could drop poison into my food, you wouldn’t 'cause you know what would happen. Empty threats, that’s all you are. I know you just jealous cuz Mila is making friends with other people besides you. Surprise bitch! You aren’t shit.”

It’s probably what Dinah said about Lauren being jealous that sets her off. She’s about to slap her until they are interrupted by a CO who heard the commotion.

“What the fuck are you doing, inmates? Get to the cafeteria,” he crosses his arms, staring them down intensely until they begin heading toward the cafeteria.

When they arrive at the cafeteria, Lauren is already fuming. She wants to dash into the kitchen, grab the knives, and stab everyone in sight. What she witnesses when she looks toward the table Camila and Ally are sitting at infuriates her even further.

One of the younger, prettier inmates stands by Camila, talking to her. But this isn’t just any normal talking. No, Lauren can sense there’s something more. Something in the way that the inmate is laughing hard at everything Camila says. Something about her flirtatious touches. This isn’t normal at all. What’s the most infuriating is that Camila seems to be enjoying this girl’s presence and eating up all of her gestures.

By the time Lauren is through the line with her tray of food, the other inmate has already left, leaving Camila and Ally alone at the table. Her and Dinah approach and take a seat, both of them eating in silence, angered by different things.

“Um…..what’s…up?” Camila asks hesitantly, attempting to diffuse the tension. Lauren and Dinah’s feelings toward one another aren’t hard to decipher, but whatever happened after they left must have been serious. She wonders if Dinah directly accused Lauren of killing Maritza to her face.

“Nothing,” Lauren stabs her mashed potatoes with her spoon. As she shovels a bit of it into her mouth, she realizes her appetite has left. Witnessing Camila flirting like that with another girl makes her sick to her stomach. There’s only one way to take this out. Leaning in toward her girlfriend, she whispers in her ear, “You, me, church. Now.”

“Now?” Camila pouts. “I haven’t finished eating…”

“Now,” Lauren repeats with more emphasis, letting Camila know that there isn’t any room for protesting here. The two exit the room promptly and head to their secluded area in the chapel to fuck, leaving Dinah and Ally confused and alone at the table.

*****

“I saw the way you were talking to that inmate,” Lauren glares down at Camila, backing her into to the wall of the chapel. Her teeth are gritted, her nostrils flared, and her eyebrows scrunched. Anger surges through her veins, her heart beating faster than normal. Her rage started with watching her girlfriend’s interactions with the other inmate, but as she is fuming at this moment, it seems to go deeper than just what happened in the cafeteria. Perhaps it’s the anger she had secretly bottled inside, anger at Camila for leaving her. What Camila did was completely justified giving Lauren’s actions, but she’s still allowed to feel upset over it. Hell, the tiny Latina put her in the fucking hospital in critical condition. This rage was bound to surface in one way or another. And right now, Lauren just needs to take it out on her.

“What..? The inmate in the cafeteria…? I don’t even know her name, she just came up and talked to me. She’s super nice,” Camila frowns in confusion. A part of her is genuinely terrified, as she has never seen her girlfriend show so much anger toward her. The angriest she had been was during the home invasion, where Lauren yelled at her to shut up and do what she said. Now, she is worried that this interaction may end in death.

“Shut the fuck up,” Lauren clenches her jaw so tight that it almost hurts. “Don’t fucking lie to me, I know what I saw.”

“Lauren, I’m yours. I’m not interested in anyone else here except you,” Camila lifts her hand and cups Lauren’s cheek. “She’s pretty but she can’t compare to you. She never will.”

Lauren’s fury causes her to fixate her attention only on the first part of Camila’s statement where she calls the other girl pretty. She doesn’t hear anything else, and that was the wrong fucking thing to say. “You think she’s fucking pretty, huh?”

“You’re not listening to me… I can recognize that other girls are attractive without acting on my thoughts. You have to admit that other girls besides me are pretty, too. Like Maritza, you thought she was pretty and I never held anything against you for it,” Camila shrugs, unaware that she is only making things worse for herself. Her words are doing nothing but pissing Lauren off further.

“If you won’t fucking shut up like I suggested, I’ll fucking make you,” Lauren grabs a fistful of Camila’s dark hair and pushes her head forward so their lips crash together. Her kisses are rough and frantic, with her teeth grazing Camila’s lips with every movement. The younger girl barely has any room for breathing as Lauren continues to deepen the kiss, her tongue aggressively shoving its way inside Camila’s mouth and searching for hers.

In regards to their sexual encounters, Lauren isn’t usually the dominant one. At first glimpse, people who observe the relationship may guess that Camila bottoms and Lauren tops, while in reality it’s the other way around. Lauren is whipped as fuck for Camila, and Camila is kinky and wild as hell in bed. She’s the one to take charge, to steer the sex in a certain direction, to put the older girl in her place. But now, Camila submits and allows Lauren to take charge. Clearly this isn’t going to advance in any other direction.

With the hand that isn’t holding hair, Lauren grasps Camila’s full ass and gropes it like she’s been deprived her entire life. For the younger girl, this almost feels like she is making out with a straight white boy who can’t keep it in his pants. Lauren’s actions are far from their usual gentleness. Between each kiss, Camila can hear the other girl’s heavy breaths and low, throaty moans.

“Fuck you,” Lauren whispers as she begins to kiss her neck. She sucks on an area of skin so violently that it quickly bruises into a dark red hickey and almost hurts Camila.

“Fuck me,” Camila groans, her hands clutching the material of Lauren’s prison top.

“Oh I’ll fuck you,” Lauren practically rips Camila’s top off and tosses it aside. Moving the smaller girl away from the wall, she pushes her onto the ground with such aggression that it almost worries her that she pushed too hard. This isn’t the time to stop and check if Camila is injured, though. Lauren drops to the ground herself and straddles her waist, their lips returning to one another again.

After Camila kicks her pants off of her legs, she assists Lauren with undressing until the two of them wear only their underwear. Unfortunately it’s not their usual lingerie—it’s the prison issued undergarments, and it’s far from their usual Victoria’s Secret getup. So they don’t waste any time in unhooking each other’s bras and sliding their underwear off, removing all of the fabric that hides their most beautiful parts.

“Turn around and get on all fours,” the Cuban commands angrily and scoots off of her. Her raspy voice alone is enough to get Camila dripping wet, but hearing her sound authoritative and demanding almost sends her over the edge.

As she obeys Lauren’s orders, Camila expects to be finger fucked doggy style or something along those lines. For a solid minute, nothing happens. Lauren is on her knees right behind her, admiring the plumpness of her ass. When the palm of her hand connects with Camila’s ass for the first time, resulting in a loud smack, the younger girl yelps out of pain. This isn’t what she expected.

A smirk creeps onto Lauren’s lips as she watches the spot on Camila’s ass that she spanked turn a bright red. She’s always lowkey wanted to try spanking—why has it taken this long for this fantasy to finally come true?

Raising her hand in the air, Lauren brings it down on the same ass cheek and area where she hit last time, resulting in yet another yelp out of Camila. As she continues to spank her, she gradually increases her speed and power behind each smack. Camila’s yelps turn into whimpers, which turn into moans. From this angle, Lauren watches the smaller girl’s pussy moisten, a few droplets spilling out because of how aroused she is.

“Fuck. You like this, huh?” Lauren grins. She wishes she could watch Camila’s expression change with each spank.

“Yes… punish me,” Camila moans, her arms and legs shaking. She hasn’t even been penetrated yet and this girl has her so weak and vulnerable.

Lauren channels her rage to intensify the spanking. She imagines Camila going behind her back and meeting up with the inmate. She pictures the two of them whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears, she imagines them kissing and then fucking. She thinks about what Camila would sound like moaning their name, screaming it and gripping the sheets as she cums. With every one of these scenarios, Lauren feels herself growing increasingly angrier, spanking Camila intensely like an almost empty ketchup bottle.

As the spanking reaches its peak intensity, Camila’s desperate whines become so loud that Lauren wonders if others will hear and rush into the room, busting the both of them. But that’s the absolute last thing on her mind.

Ceasing the spanking session, Lauren slides her index and middle finger into the girl’s center as she remains on all fours. Camila got so aroused from being “punished” that the Cuban’s fingers slip into the wetness effortlessly. Almost too effortlessly—it would be quite easy for anything to fall out, given how wet she is. The simple action of penetrating the girl causes her arms and legs to shake like leaves, and when Lauren begins to rub her clit in small circles, she moans a string of profanities and feels a rush of pressure to her core.

“Oh my god… I’m close, fuck, it feels like I’m going to pee,” Camila whimpers weakly, her voice cracking. Lauren’s lips turn up into a proud smirk, knowing exactly what is about to flood out of the girl—and it isn’t pee. She’s made several girls squirt before, but this will be the younger girl’s first time. 

“Shhh, let it out baby, you’re okay,” Lauren assures her as she increases pressure on her rubs. “Cum for me.”

“L-Lauren!” she screams for the Cuban. Trusting Lauren, she allows the pressure to release from her center. A warm substance pours out of her pussy onto the floor, covering the other girl’s hand and getting a little bit of her body wet. She’s a little scared that she’s peeing, but it’s too late to stop the flow now. As the liquid gushes out of her, she feels her walls contracting over Lauren’s fingers as the most intense orgasm she’s ever experienced hits her. Her eyes shut tight, she can’t hold in her moans, and she swears that she blacked out for a millisecond.

After thirty seconds, the orgasm finally subsides. It was so intense that Camila no longer possesses the strength in her arms and legs to keep herself up, and collapses on the floor in a blissful daze. She wants to say something to Lauren about how that was the best sex she’s ever had, but all that comes out is incoherent mumbling and no real words. It’s going to be hard to walk after this.

Lauren grins proudly at her work, licking Camila’s cum off of her fingers. “Mmmm shit, you taste good,” she whispers. Moving forward so she sits by her girlfriend’s head, she runs her fingers gently through her hair and rubs circles on her back. While she would love for the girl to reciprocate, it’s clear that this isn’t plausible seeing how the orgasm has exhausted her.

Camila musters all of her strength to roll over so she can face her beautiful girlfriend. “I love you…” she smiles up at her.

“I love you too,” Lauren leans down to kiss her on the forehead.

“I’m… so happy they chose you…” Camila mutters, her eyelids drooping as she drifts in and out of consciousness. Lauren figures that this is fine, she doubts anyone will be wandering into the chapel anytime soon.

“It’s going to be great. For both of us, I promise,” Lauren watches as Camila falls asleep. Maybe it’s a little creepy, but she adores how her girlfriend looks when she sleeps. She could sit there in silence, watching her sleep for hours, and feel perfectly content. Anytime she is with Camila is when she is content. Camila is her home.

*****

Down on the floor on her knees, Lauren allows Correctional Officer Zayn Malik to yank on her hair and shove his dick down her throat. The blowjob lasts for about five minutes before he finally blows his load in her mouth, causing her to gag and choke a little. But she’s a trooper, so she swallows every drop.

Pulling his softening cock out of her beautiful mouth, he stuffs it back in his pants and zips them up. “What did you want again?” he asks, his head still a little light from cumming.

She’s not cheating. At least, not in her mind. She harbors no emotional attachment to Zayn, this is purely a business arrangement. He’s got a pretty face and is known for being the shadiest CO. There’s an unspoken common knowledge around the prison that if you want something from the outside world, let Zayn have his way with you and it’s all yours. Lauren can’t stand him. He’s scum for taking advantage of prisoners like this, and he even has a fucking fiancée who is probably unaware of his little side business. It’s her dream to cut off his precious dick and watch him suffer. But for now, she plays the game. She complies with what he wants to get what she wants.

“The cookies,” Lauren reminds him, standing up and brushing some dust off of her pants. This is her first 'transaction’ with the CO. It’s more of a test run, to see how reliable and efficient he is. So she requested something typical of prisoners—drugs. What he hands her in the plastic bag are five small peanut butter cookies that are laced with weed.

He’ll be easy to manipulate. Boys always are. Get on your knees, suck their dick, maybe let them fuck you in the ass and then they’re putty in your hands. Lauren has never failed to get her way through flirting. She’ll get him hooked on her, and then she can start requesting riskier things. And he’ll be so whipped that he won’t question her.

It’s funny because Zayn thinks that he is the one with the upper hand in this situation. He thinks that he is the one in control. But it’s the opposite—he’s Lauren’s pawn.

“Let’s do this again, yeah?” he smacks her on the ass as she opens the door to his office to leave.

“Of course babe,” she winks at him. Heading back to her cell, she stuffs the cookies under her mattress.

She doesn’t feel any remorse for performing sexual acts on someone who isn’t Camila. If Camila were to find out, Lauren would hope she would understand. It’s disgusting, but in the long run, both of them will benefit. Sacrifice a little now to gain a lot later. It won’t be long until her plan falls into place, and everyone who ever wronged her will pay.


	7. Chapter 7

"Where did you get these, Lauren?"

Camila questions hesitantly as the Cuban hands her two cookies that aren't even the size of her palm. They sit in the recreational yard of the prison, off in a corner where not many guards pass. She was reading a book in her cell when Lauren dragged her outside, insisting she had a "special treat" for her. For the first time, this special treat was literal and not a sexual metaphor. As Lauren retrieved the crumpled Ziploc bag of cookies from the depths of her pants, she had emphasized that they're _special_ until Camila finally got the hint.

"Camz, this is our first taste of the outside world in months. It doesn't matter where I got them, let's just savor this!" Lauren insists. Obviously she isn't going to tell her that she sucked dick for this.

Her answer only makes Camila more nervous. She runs through scenarios in her head as to how the girl could have possibly obtained these laced cookies. It can't be too hard to find marijuana around the prison, but there's no chance that Lauren baked the cookies herself—the stench would carry throughout the entire building and she isn't stupid enough to do that. That leaves only one other possibility in her mind: Lauren has gotten involved in the drug trade of the prison. Camila isn't knowledgeable about the drug market in prisons, but she has enough common sense to know that it's never a good idea to get involved in that. One missed payment or wrong move and you'd end up shanked in the bathroom.

Camila frowns, handing the cookies back to Lauren. "Lo, please, I don't want these if you're not going to tell me how you got them," she shakes her head.

Thankfully for Lauren, she's talented at coming up with lies on the spot and selling them. "Fine, I got them from my friend in exchange for a few items from commissary. Happy?"

Studying the other girl closely, Camila squints and takes a few moments to process the information. For a moment, Lauren is worried that she's not going to buy the lie. But after a minute, her squint fades and she just sighs, taking the cookies and studying them. "....just please be careful, okay? I don't want you to get in any trouble or make any rivals... a few weed cookies is not worth you bleeding out on the bathroom floor."

What Lauren wants to say is that she can take care of herself. If anyone would ever try to harm her, it would be them who would be bleeding out on the bathroom floor. In fact, she'd mutilate their body to such an extreme extent that no one would ever be able to identify them. She'd draw out their murdering, ensuring that they know they fucked with the wrong person as their life fades away. However, this isn't appropriate to say. So she gives Camila a reassuring smile, places her hand on the younger girl's hand in a comforting manner, and says, "Of course, babe, I'd never do anything to put us in danger. Now, shall we enjoy these delicacies?"

"Okayyyy," Camila brings the cookie to her mouth. Upon biting down into the baked dough, the overwhelming taste of marijuana floods her entire mouth. There is barely any trace of actual cookie taste—it almost tastes like she bit into a hemp leaf. Her face contorts with disgust. "Oh my god, these are awful..."

Lauren pouts, her expression of sadness hiding her inner anger. Fucking Malik, can he do nothing right? "It can't be that bad..." she takes a bite out of her own cookie, her nose crinkling with revulsion immediately as the skunky taste floods her mouth. "Fuck. Okay, it is that bad. But it's been fucking months since I've had this opportunity, I'm toughing this out. If you don't want yours I guess I'll eat them."

"I suppose I will too," Camila attempts to suppress a gag as she takes another bite. The weed cookies she would consume with Lauren when they lived together before this whole mess were never this messy. Give any of their cookies to the average person and they wouldn't be able to detect a single trace of marijuana. She wonders what amateur concocted these tiny balls of death.

"Good. You know, our sex is significantly more mind blowing when we're high," Lauren scarfs both of her cookies down as quickly as possible. She's had plenty of things in her mouth that are more revolting than these cookies—Zayn's dick, for example—if she can swallow shit like that, she can swallow this.

Camila grins as she reminisces their high sex. She remembers the days they'd be able to stay in bed all day, smoke a couple joints, fuck until they pass out, and repeat. Camila herself had never been much of a weed person until she started dating Lauren, who always seemed to have an endless supply of the drug. She began to prefer weed over drinking, as it resulted in much less of a mess and no hangovers. Spending this time with Lauren in the open yard, munching on weed cookies and simply enjoying each other's presence without any interruptions truly makes her feel like they aren't even inmates in a prison right now.

As Camila finishes forcing the cookies down her throat and continues to suppress the urge to vomit, the two of them lay down in the grass staring up at the sky as the high gradually kicks in through their bodies. Camila adjusts her body so her head rests on her girlfriend's chest. The soft pounding of Lauren's heart comforts her.

"Laying down and feeling the sun heat my skin like this reminds me of the beach. God, I miss the beach. You know, we better go outside every chance we get. I overheard the guards talking about a huge hurricane that's supposed to hit in, like, a month. Supposed to be as big as or even bigger than Katrina," Lauren rambles. She was eight years old when Katrina hit. Living in Miami, they weren't badly affected. The damage was devastating and some cities are still attempting to recover from the downfall that ensued. Having a hurricane of that magnitude hit them directly will be a first, and saying that it'll be terrifying is an understatement. But it's also provides the ideal opportunity to carry out her plan.

"Hey, maybe it'll take down this hellhole," Camila giggles at the thought of the prison buildings collapsing. "Then we can make a run for it and live in a small obscure European city as Laura Jambalaya and Vamila Carmello."

"You are full of brilliant ideas, babe," Lauren plays with Camila's hair as they begin to talk about what their hypothetical plans would be if they escaped to Europe under those aliases. It's a cute, fun scenario, but Lauren 100% intends on making it come true. If her plan actually works, she'll have to give up killing forever, but if she had to trade murder for a peaceful life with Camila, there would be no hesitation.

What she dreams of above all else is raising a child with Camila. Whether they opt for a sperm donor, bone marrow, or adoption, this is Lauren's ultimate fantasy. She was always naturally great with children, but her desire to have one never arose until she witnessed her girlfriend with kids. One night, they agreed to babysit for Camila's friend. They took care of her one and a half year old baby girl, and Lauren swore she fell in love a second time as she watched Camila ooze with happiness as she held the child.

She dreams of decorating their child's room with ideas from Pinterest. She dreams of Camila and her teaching their kid how to walk and documenting every single special memory with photographs. She dreams of their future kid's first Halloween trick-or-treating, and their first Christmas. She'd give that kid the happiest fucking life, and she'd be the happiest mother. Lauren and Camila have a fucked up past full of lies, deceit, and hurt—but she truly believes that could all be water under the bridge the minute they held their child in their arms.

They've spent about 45 minutes discussing their hypothetical future when the high finally kicks in all the way. That's the only disadvantage of edibles to smoking, it takes much longer for the metabolism to process it and for the effects to actually become noticeable, as opposed to an instant high from smoking. Both of their bodies tingle with bliss, and in this moment, they have no worries in the world. The prison, their lifetime sentences, their confinement... it's all insignificant as they lay in the open field in each other's arms, good vibes from the drug pumping through their veins.

"When we have a kid together, do you want to carry or should I?" Lauren inquires, her mind still on the subject of babies.

"Hm... I don't really have a preference. I envisioned us having two and we could each carry one," Camila answers with a shrug. She doesn't allow her dreams to get too out of hand—realistically, they aren't going to escape. They're not going to be able to live a life normal enough to don two children of their own. But since she's high, and since she loves Lauren, she'll humor her. "What did you say your favorite names were again?"

"If they're a boy, I always liked Milo or Rhys. Karina, Bailey, or Dylan for a girl."

"Milo? Like, Mila but genderswapped? Aw, Lo, I'm flattered. If we have two boys they can be Milo and Lorenzo," Camila giggles. "I like those."

"Milo and Lorenzo?"

"Not Lorenzo, silly, the ones you listed," Camila shifts her position so she is still laying on top of Lauren, but faces her now. Closing her eyes, she leans closer and locates the other girl's lips with her own, losing herself in them. With their eyes closed, losing themselves in one another, they can pretend that they're in their yard at home. They can pretend that they're normal, just for this one moment.

Lauren's sexual thirsts significantly amplify when she's high. Usually when they make out, she is able to restrain her urges to take it to the next level and simply enjoy the other girl's lips in that moment. Her high renders her need for Camila's body to be almost insatiable. Hands wandering from the younger girl's hips to under the waistline of the prison pants, Lauren smirks as her fingertips make contact with her girlfriend's already soaking center.

"I'm going to make you cum so hard, you'll forget your name as you scream mine. Again and again and again. They'll never find us out here," Lauren whispers to Camila as she plunges her fingers into the girl's wet core.

The sound of someone clearing their throat loudly to announce their presence quickly disproves Lauren's last statement. The Cuban panics, withdraws her hand, and pushes Camila off of her in fear that it's a CO who stands over them right now. The two of them haven't been caught yet, and they don't plan on ever being caught—apparently prisoners can get sent to maximum security if they're caught having sex. It seems a little over the top, especially considering the officers who send them to max are the same officers who are corrupt and fuck the inmates to take advantage of them.

It's not a CO. It's just a bitch who can't mind her own damn business. Inmate Robinson is notorious for annoying others and butting into their personal affairs. Since she has no life and practically no friends around the prison, her main source of entertainment comes from talking shit about others and trying to start drama. Lauren's had to restrain herself from attacking the girl after hearing a rude comment under her breath in passing. Now more than ever, she is being tested by whatever entity may or may not exist in the heavens.

"Ew, get a room," Robinson scoffs, crossing her arms and shaking her head in a judgmental manner at the pair. Camila still wears a deer-in-headlights expression, whereas Lauren's face has shifted from shock to contempt.

"How about you get a fucking life that doesn't involve stalking other people? Bitch," Lauren rolls her eyes. Camila rubs the Cuban's back as if to silently ask her to stop. Robinson is black, and because most of the races stick together in the prison, she's terrified of the black group of inmates holding a grudge against Lauren. She's not sure how her girlfriend would fend if she were attacked by an entire group of people at once, and she sure as hell doesn't want to find out this information.

Neither of them have spent enough time around Robinson to be able to predict how she's going to react to Lauren's snarky comments and name-calling. The girl appears a bit off in the head, it's a completely plausible scenario for her to explode and start trying to beat the shit out of one of them. Or both of them. Yet her composure remains entirely calm, as if what Lauren said did not phase her in the slightest. She simply sits down in the grass with her legs crossed and hands folded in her lap, positioned as if she's prepared to watch Lauren and Camila for hours. "Nah, I'mma stay."

If Lauren weren't baked at the moment, her fists would be clenched and she'd be shaking with anger. Hell, she'd probably have pummeled the shit out of the nosy cunt by now. Instead, she stands up, her hand holding Camila's and causing the other girl to rise from the ground with her.

"Are you a fucking Neanderthal? God damn, and you wonder why no one likes you. Do _not_ follow us again. Let's go, Camz," Lauren's voice lowers as she warns the other girl, implying a threat but never explicitly stating it. It's not like Robinson can change her fate by following or disobeying her orders. She's already decided what she wants to do with the girl, and there isn't a single thing that the inmate can do to change it.

By the time Lauren and Camila reach the chapel in hopes of continuing where they left off, recreational hours are over and it's time for dinner. Although they would have no problem with skipping a meal, their stomachs rumbling urges them otherwise. They return to the main building with an empty stomach, a fading high, and an unbelievable amount of built up sexual frustration that was never able to be released.

*****

Holidays around the prison are significantly less exciting and authentic as they are in the real world. Despite this fact, they're still big days for the inmates to celebrate and attempt to grasp for the closest thing to normalcy that they can obtain. Today is Halloween, and while there won't be any kids knocking on doors asking for free candy, booze induced blackouts, or strange revealing costumes, the holiday spirit thrives.

Halloween decorations created by some of the inmates themselves hang around the recreational rooms, including some fake spider webs and pumpkins made out of construction paper. Lauren and the rest of the kitchen staff baked special pumpkin bread for the occasion to serve at dinner. The most exciting event of the day, however, is the prison-wide Halloween party, complete with cheesy Halloween tunes, costume contests, and party games; almost identical to the typical elementary school party. Inmates enjoy scaring each other to promote the Halloween spirit by jumping out of corners and frightening their peers. On a normal day, jumping out and deliberately scaring someone would result in a fight or a stabbing. Today is the perfect excuse—your chance of dying is significantly lower than any other day. Not even halfway through the day, Dinah has almost made Camila pee out of terror from several of her scaring pranks.

Directly following dinner, the inmates head back to their cells to prepare for the party that will take place in thirty minutes in the rec room. Obviously, it's difficult for prisoners to come up with a creative costume when all they have is their scrubs and the items around them. Some didn't even bother attempting to throw together an outfit, while others utilized several items from commissary to the best of their abilities.

Dinah and Ally collaborated, pooling together their commissary budgets and purchasing as much toilet paper as possible. They get ready in Dinah and Camila's cell, wrapping each other from the neck down to their feet with toilet paper (Dinah didn't want to hide her hair, she had recently gotten her hair done). As the two assist each other in preparing for the party, Camila heads over to Lauren's cell to get ready with her girlfriend.

Camila arrives at Lauren's cell to see the Cuban already in her "costume", laying on her bed and reading a book as she waits. The sleeves and bottom of the girl's prison top are unevenly chopped off to model a crop top—Camila assumes that she used her kitchen knife—and her pants are modified into short, tight shorts.

"Oh my god, did you cut up your only uniform?" Camila's jaw drops in shock, doubting that Lauren will be allowed to walk the halls in an outfit like that. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised of a CO instantly sent her to Max upon laying their eyes upon her. Her girlfriend sets her book down and stands up from the bed, revealing how the entire costume looks. It may be poorly made, but somehow she manages to pull it off and even look sexy in it.

"Nah, one of the kitchen girls had an extra," Lauren shrugs. "Speaking of which..."

As Lauren rummages through her small drawer, Camila can't keep her eyes off of her. It's been a while since she's seen her in an outfit other than the normal prison uniform issued to all of them. This costume highlights her beautiful legs, thick thighs, and delicious abs. Lauren locates her white cook top that has her name inscribed above the pocket along with her little cooking hat. Handing it to the younger girl, she smirks as she notices her practically drooling at her outfit.

"You like it? It's sexy prisoner... if you couldn't tell. I think I should start selling these by the bulk to outsiders. 'Authentic Sexy Prisoner Uniform: Made By An Actual Prisoner.' What do you think?" Lauren ponders aloud.

"You'd be loaded. Why did you become a therapist, clearly you were better suited to be a CEO," Camila lifts her top off, folds it and sets it on Lauren's bed, then takes the clothing items and slides into them. Earlier in the day, she still hadn't come up with a costume. Originally she had intended in coming up with something unique and creative to impress Lauren and make her laugh, but her creative pursuits fell short. Her girlfriend was more than willing to pitch in, and offered to lend Camila her cook outfit for the night, stating that she would be "her precious little cook." With Lauren's name inscribed in the top, she feels like a middle or high school couple that wears each other's sport hoodies. "How do I look?"

"Hang on," Lauren mutters, reaching up to fix the hat that sits slightly lopsided on Camila's head. After adjusting it, she smiles and cups the other girl's cheeks. "You look perfect. We're the cutest couple this prison has ever seen and will ever see. Ready?"

"Let's go," Camila and Lauren exit the cell together and head to the party.

They're arrive about ten minutes after the party was advertised to start, so there's already a decent amount of people there. Cheesy songs like the Monster Mash play through a speaker. There are various groups of people at the party—in one corner stands the cynical inmates who talk shit to one another about how this sucks. In another corner are a few inmates who dance to the music, and another group plays the cheesy Halloween themed games set up by the COs, including "guess how many candy corns are in this jar" and apple bobbing.

As soon as they walk in, the two of them—Lauren, especially—receive judgmental looks. Dinah and Ally approach them, decked out in their mummy costumes.

"Nice... uh... costume," Dinah addresses, scanning the girl's body from head to toe and sounding a little judgmental but also impressed.

"Thanks," Lauren hides her hatred for the Polynesian behind a smile. In private, Camila had discussed her wishes for Lauren and Dinah to get along. If it weren't for Camila, she'd bash the girl's head against a wall immediately and serve her to the whole prison as dinner. But she has to play nice to please her girlfriend. "You guys look cute."

"Awww, thank you Lauren!" Ally beams with happiness from the compliment. She looks around the room at the other costumes, and to her relief, no one else had the idea of buying a shitload of toilet paper to make a mummy. She wouldn't be surprised if she bought most of commissary's supply with Dinah. "The pumpkin cookies are delicious, by the way."

"They better be, we got into the kitchen two hours early this morning to make them," Lauren glances over at the snack table. About a quarter of the cookies are already gone, and considering how the party just started, it's a good sign.

"Guys, let's go play some of the games!" Camila bounces excitedly, unable to keep her eyes off of the various games around the room that remind her of her childhood. As the girls begin to head over to one of the games, Lauren spots Robinson, the inmate who interrupted her and Camila yesterday, excusing herself from her bitchy friend group to presumably head to the bathroom.

"Hey guys, I'll be right back, I forgot something in the cell," Lauren lies, walking away from the group before they have the opportunity to ask any questions.

Following people discreetly is one of the skills Lauren excels at the most. It's pretty much a necessity when your side-career involves murdering people and getting away with it. Having your victim notice your presence and run away screaming is a wonderful way to get caught immediately and thrown into prison. The art of subtly following someone involves quiet footsteps, a safe distance, and intuition. If it seems like the person may turn around, you have to be able to hide efficiently and quietly. There were a few cases where Lauren was almost caught when she was stalking her prey, but of course she remained undetected and learned from her mistakes.

Trailing Robinson to the bathroom, the toilet flushes and Lauren positions herself to the side, where Robinson is unable to see her feet. The minute the stall door opens, she tackles the girl to the ground and clamps her hands around her throat to prevent her from screaming too loud.

"W-What... the fuck... are you.. d-doing..." Robinson croaks, her voice strained as Lauren's hands slowly crush her windpipe. "G-Get... away from me..."

"Nah, I'mma stay," Lauren echoes the words that Robinson said when she interrupted her and Camila's personal time.

To Robinson's dismay, asphyxiation isn't how Lauren plans on killing her. With one hand still on Robinson's throat, she uses her other to take off one of the girl's shoes, retrieves her sock off of her foot, and stuffs it into her mouth as a makeshift gag. It's necessary for what she's about to do.

Lauren retrieves a shard of glass from her bra. She had to place it in an area where it would be inconspicuous and wouldn't be able to stab into her body. The shard originates from a mirror that broke during a fight in the bathroom during the first month that Lauren was at the prison. She was not a part of the fight, simply a bystander who wanted to "help clean up the mess." She's kept this shard of glass in a private place in her cell—now is the perfect time to make use of it. For the Halloween spirit.

She digs the shard into Robinson's left eye socket, stabbing it at such an angle that makes cutting the eyeball out an easier task. Even with the sock gag, the girl's screams are shrilling. Blood pours out of her socket and her arms and legs flail at attempt of hitting Lauren to no avail. Her eyeball now hangs partially out of the hole, and Lauren holds it with her index finger, middle finger, and thumb. With a quick flick of the wrist, the eyeball pops out without any difficulties.

Muffled screams and profanities attempt to escape from Robinson's mouth, but the gag renders them so they can't be understood.

"What's that? You want me to cut the other one out, too? Oh, sweetie, you didn't even have to ask," Lauren talks with a soothing voice that betrays her violent actions. Stabbing the shard into the girl's other eye socket, she repeats the process, only slower this time to draw out the pain. Soon, both of the girl's eyes sit beside her body as dark crimson liquid bubbles out of the places where her eyes were once located.

Although Robinson no longer has eyes, it isn't enough to kill her. Surely she'll lose enough blood that she'll eventually die, but that isn't any fun. Lauren has a better idea to entertain her more.

Removing the sock from the girl's mouth, she pries her jaw open as far as it can go and stabs the shard into the roof of her mouth. It's long enough that it enters through her mouth and protrudes through her right eye socket. Blood spurts out all over Lauren's torso. Pulling the shard out of her mouth from the protruding end located in Robinson's eye, she jams it through her eye socket into her brain. A couple twists ends Robinson's screaming and writhing.

Her chest heaving, Lauren stands up slowly and inspects her work. This is her most creative and gory kill in a long time, and she enjoyed every second of it. Adrenaline courses through her body and she wants more. She wants to do this to every person who has ever wronged her. She wants to make everyone suffer, draw out their pain until the absolute last moment. Turning to face herself in the mirror, Lauren admires her appearance. The blood has spattered all across her chopped top and also her exposed stomach.

Though she just killed someone, the current state of her body turns her on—covered in her victim's blood, high off of the excitement of ending another human's life. All she wants to do is find Camila and fuck her. But she knows other priorities are at hand. She plans to hide the body in the kitchen freezer and find a way to efficiently dispose of it later. If all goes to plan, everyone will just assume that Robinson somehow managed to escape while everyone else had their minds preoccupied on Halloween affairs.

Not bothering to wash off after she has hid the body, Lauren picks up the eyeballs and returns to the party. Setting them down on a table with decorations when no one is looking, she returns to the other three girls.

"You were gone for a long ti—holy shit," Camila turns to Lauren, her jaw dropping at the sight of the girl covered in blood.

"Fake blood. I asked one of the CO's for it to enhance my costume. It involved some bribery with a cake but I scored it," Lauren delivers her lie effortlessly. Camila and Ally buy it, but Dinah knows that this isn't fake at all.

The rest of the night is pretty uneventful. Camila comes in first for the candy corn number guessing game, winning her $5.00 worth of commissary money. Dinah and Ally win the costume contest, winning them $10.00 each in commissary money. All throughout the night, Lauren watches as various people admire the decorations—the eyeballs, in particular. They comment on how real they seem, and wonder out loud if the COs got them from a dead body or something. It's times like those that make killing more than worth it.

*****

Three days have passed since the Halloween party. When the COs noticed that Robinson went missing, everyone assumed that she escaped. They sent out an alert in the news for the entire state of Florida and a couple neighboring states in hopes of capturing the runaway inmate. Lauren and Dinah know otherwise.

Before Lauren was sent to the prison, the institution's psychiatrist quit, angry about their income. They weren't unable to replace the doctor until today, and now that there's a psychiatrist once again, the COs are requiring inmates they consider psychologically unstable to attend therapy. This includes Lauren.

Ushered into the psychiatrist's office by a couple COs, Lauren begrudgingly takes a seat in the chair across from the doctor. She's a young woman who can't be older than 30 years old—she's probably fresh out of med school, and that's why she's taking the first job she can get, which happens to be at this prison. The only difference between her and Lauren is that she is allowed to prescribe medicine to her patients. Lauren has always been a bit skeptical of psychiatrists, believing they'd prescribe medicine to anyone who entered their office in order to get more money for themselves. Therapy is the last place she wants to be now. It's ironic, considering she was in this position with Camila a couple years ago, only their roles were reversed. Funny how things can change so quickly.

"Hi Lauren, I'm Dr. Kelly," the woman greets Lauren with a warm smile. She has one dimple on the left side of her face that appears when she grins, it's kind of cute actually. If Lauren met her in a bar, she would probably flirt with her.

"Let's skip the formalities. I'm forced to see you once a week for an hour and I have to deal with it. Let me answer some of the questions you probably have on your little clipboard. Why did I kill people? Because I fucking enjoy it. Why do I enjoy it? I don't know, genetics. Do I have any empathy? I can, if I care about someone. Was I abused as a child? No. Perfectly happy childhood. Now, can we spend the rest of the time sitting in silence? That would be the most therapeutic," Lauren doesn't hold back.

Dr. Kelly stares at silence for a few seconds, and at first, Lauren believes that she has successfully won. This woman doesn't know how to respond, and now they can skip the bullshit where they pretend that she knows what she's doing. But then the doctor speaks.

"Lauren, I know you don't want to be here and you have no choice. I'm sorry that these are the circumstances, but let's try to make the most positive experience possible and that can only be done by cooperation on your end. Those are all questions that I wasn't going to ask. What I care about right now is your current psyche. How are you doing?" she jots a couple notes down on her clipboard. Lauren assumes that it probably says something like 'presumptuous bitch.'

"What do you expect? I haven't seen outdoor scenery other than the rec yard for months. The food is packaged shit that we're forced to serve. There's no privacy. There's no freedom. Seriously, what kind of answer were you expecting?" Lauren huffs a large sigh. Usually she wouldn't be so rude to others, but she's in a particularly bad mood today since someone stole her towel and uniform in the bathroom and she was forced to trek through the halls naked back to her cell.

"How are you faring with your sister's death? I know it's a tough subject, but it's the last traumatic thing that happened to you and I need to know how you're dealing with it," Dr. Kelly asks.

She's unaware that Lauren hasn't been informed of Taylor's death yet. She just assumed that the COs must have told her, or her parents, or _someone_.

Unfortunately, she assumed incorrectly.

Lauren's smug attitude dissolves the moment she processes the doctor's words. She sits up in her chair, eyes widening, heart slowing down as she attempts to comprehend the information. "W-What? My... my sister's... death?" she asks, her voice weak and soft. You can hear the heartbreak in her tone.

Dr. Kelly covers her mouth, cursing internally. "You.. didn't know?"

"What... what happened to her..." Lauren feels absolutely numb. She's paralyzed by her shock. Her baby sister. Dead. What could have possibly happened to her? She's young, she had no health issues. She played sports. She wasn't dumb enough to drink and drive. It must have been an accident. Or perhaps someone who hated the Jauregui's simply because of Lauren targeted her. "Tell me... tell me what happened to her."

"Lauren, I don't think..."

The doctor doesn't have to finish her sentence for Lauren to know what she's going to say. She abruptly stands up and storms out of the room, her only destination being the phones. When she passes Camila in the halls and is greeted by her girlfriend, she doesn't notice. She doesn't hear her. All she knows is that she needs to reach the damn phones before she breaks down, otherwise she'll never make it.

It feels like a million mile trek, but she finally makes it to one of the phones. With a shaky hand, she dials her mom's cell phone number. The first month she was in the prison, she tried calling her parents every day, yet they rejected every call. After that, she gave up. They didn't want anything to do with her anymore. They wouldn't talk to her when she was being held in the hospital or the jail. Why would her being in prison suddenly change that?

To her surprise, the phone clicks and she hears Clara's voice on the other end. "Hello?" It almost sounds foreign, it's been so long since she last heard it. Just the sound of her mom saying that one word is enough to send her over the edge. She had been on the brink of crying the entire trip to the phone, and now the tears pour out freely.

Gasping for air, her voice cracks as she speaks to her mother for the first time in months. "M-Mom... Mami..." Lauren has to take a few deep breaths to be able to form words that her mom will be able to understand.

"...Yes, Lauren?" Lauren can hear Clara's frown through her words.

When Clara found out that her daughter was the most wanted, dangerous serial killer in the entire country, she disconnected. She forgot that Lauren was once a human in her eyes. She only saw her as a monster. Now, as she hears her daughter sobbing, it humanizes her. It reminds her of the times she would run into her arms crying because she tripped on the playground and got a little scrape. It reminds her of the time she came home sobbing from her senior prom because her date ended the night by kissing a different girl. As she sobs uncontrollably over the phone, she doesn't sound like a heartless killer, but like a little girl who needs her mom to hold her and tell her everything is going to be alright.

"W-What happened to Tay, mom? What... why is she..." Lauren weeps, almost falling onto her knees. She would, if the telephone cord were long enough. But she has to hold herself up long enough to hear what happened to her little sister.

As the oldest child of the family, she always felt the innate need to protect her younger siblings. If a boy broke Taylor's heart, she would make them regret it. Same went with a girl breaking Chris' heart. If Taylor is dead, she failed. She was unable to protect her, and she can't help but hate herself for it.

"Lauren..."

"Please, just tell me... I can't..." Lauren begs, almost choking on her own tears. " _Please_. I love you, _please_."

Silence. Clara is silent for so long that Lauren worries she hung up.

Then her next words hurt her more than any possible way Clara could have responded.

"Camila pushed her out of a window."

A long, consistent beep tells Lauren that her mom hung up. But she doesn't hear it for long. She collapses onto the ground, the phone hanging on the end of its cord, as she lays on her stomach and sobs. Her mixture of emotions absolutely paralyzes her. She doesn't even know how to react. All she can do is cry, and cry, and cry. Until there are no tears left. Until the COs drag her off to her cell to prevent her from creating too much of a scene. Until she passes out on her bed, begging to God to not let her wake up.

But she does.

_"And it echoes when I breathe, until all you see is my ghost_   
_Empty vessel, crooked teeth, wish you could see_   
_And they call me under_   
_And I'm shaking like a leaf_   
_And they call me under_   
_And I wither underneath_   
_In this storm"_

 


	8. Chapter 8

The past few days have been a blur for Lauren. She doesn't remember collapsing onto the ground and crying until she had to be carried off by the COs. She doesn't remember the countless tears she shed, or how many times she let out a choked gasp for air as if she were drowning, only to realize that she couldn't save herself. She doesn't remember Ally checking up on her, or Camila visiting the cell to see why she hasn't left it in days. These past days have felt like a foggy dream—one of those dreams that you vaguely remember when you wake up, only for it to fade away in minutes to never come back. This isn't a dream, though. It's a nightmare.

"Camila pushed her out of a window."

Clara's voice iterating these words to Lauren will forever be etched into her memory. When she thinks of her mother, instead of remembering her soothing voice calming her down when she wouldn't be able to stop crying over something stupid, she'll hear the fateful sentence that changed her life. This one sentence succeeding in shattering all of the relationships Lauren considered to be the most important.

It confirmed the death of Taylor. Taylor, her little sister, who she always felt slightly responsible for. As her older sister, Lauren felt the innate urge to protect her. And now, she has failed. The girl cut Lauren off the moment she was exposed as a killer, like the rest of the family did, but Lauren continued to feel close to her. She felt the constant urge to call her, send her a letter, ask how she's doing and give her advice. Just like she did when she had went away to college while Taylor was in high school. The younger girl would come to her for guidance, and she was more than happy to provide it.

It shattered the image of her mother. Lauren possesses unconditional love for both of her parents, but even from childhood, she felt more connected with Clara. If she had a problem, nine times out of ten, she would bring it to her mom, knowing that her advice would resonate better with her own ideals. Now, she harbors mixed emotions. Part of her wants to blame herself. This was her fault for being careless, getting caught, and allowing Taylor to get hurt. Part of her wants to blame Clara for not watching over her daughter well enough. But the small, rational part of her mind knows that there's only one person to blame.

Camila. Her most treasured relationship. Her true soulmate. Initially, if Lauren had been forced to choose between her family and Camila, she would choose Camila. In any other situation, she would choose her family first. But Camila's soul is one unlike any others. Lauren is convinced that she is the person she's meant to spend life with until the grave. Any other love would be mediocre in comparison. Nothing could ever come close. This new information presents a situation she never thought to consider.

She thought Camila was harmless. When Austin Mahone broke into their house, provided the fight or flight scenario, the girl was 100% flight. She didn't consider fighting and couldn't even fathom it. The only time she ever witnessed any sort of violent behavior at all was when she lashed out with anger after discovering Lauren's secret which ended up with her in the hospital with a brain bleed. In that moment, she looked into Camila's eyes and didn't recognize the person looking back at her. Lauren hasn't seen her like that in a long time. In the prison, she avoids any type of conflict, fleeing quickly if it appears like there's going to be physical altercations.

Maybe Camila tries to avoid violent situation because she is aware of her hidden aggression. That girl is almost all stick and bone, but she can inflict a surprising amount of pain if she wants. Lauren ponders exactly what type of scenario landed the two girls in the same room. She wonders what the hell possessed Camila to make her want to push Taylor, an innocent girl who never hurt anyone, out of a window to her death. Perhaps she was searching to get even with Lauren. Maybe she lost it mentally and it was a wrong place, wrong time situation. Part of her wants concrete answers, but the other half never wants to know the truth.

In a fucked up way, Lauren realizes that maybe she doesn't have a right to complain. She took away Sofi's life and then pursued a serious relationship with Camila while knowing the whole time that the two of them were related. Theoretically, the universe has reached equilibrium again—Lauren took away Camila's younger sister, so Camila took away Lauren's younger sister. An eye for an eye.

But an eye for an eye makes the world blind.

As someone who is a very calculated person who is normally one step ahead in every situation, prepared for anything to go wrong, Lauren is at a loss. She never expected this to happen. When Camila appeared at the prison, madly in love with the girl and ignoring the fact that she's a psychopathic serial killer, Lauren felt like something was off. There was no way that any sane person could suddenly forgive anyone for the large quantity and intensity of her lies. Now it makes sense. Camila was probably so calm because she felt justice was served.

The confusing whirlwind of emotions makes Lauren's head feel like it's about to explode. All of her energy has been used up by her crying. She has no will, no ability to move out of her bunk bed. It's a miracle that Ally has been able to force Lauren to eat the food she smuggled out of the cafeteria for her. There is barely any part of her that possesses any will to continue living.

Camila is the only person Lauren has encountered that has made her feel such a large range of emotions. She's loved, she's cried, she's laughed, and she's felt anger, but nothing too intense until Camila stumbled into her life. With Camila, she loves with all of her heart and soul, until she has none left to give anyone else. She's cried so hard that her tear ducts have emptied out, her throat has almost completely shut, and her stomach has ached. Maybe that's one of the reasons Lauren is trying to find a way to forgive her. To allow this to be an eye for an eye, to try to move on like nothing happened at all. Camila is the only person who gives her more joy than inflicting death upon others. And she's sure that no one will can ever have this effect on her. Without Camila, Lauren is afraid she will never feel again.

It's been four days since Lauren learned of the terrible news. She hasn't had the energy to force herself out of bed and shower, so her hair is a greasy mess and her body emits a rancid odor. Her stomach feels like it has shrunk because of the minimal amount of food in the past days. With her head buried in her pillow, blocking out the rest of the world, she feels the exhaustion from her sorrow overtaking her once more. Cry until she's out of energy, pass out, and repeat. She begins to wonder if this cycle will ever end.

*****

Camila is on her way to the bathroom when she witnesses Lauren heading from the psychiatrist's office to the phones. She's was aware that of her girlfriend's required appointment with the new doctor, but she's completely unaware of the news that she just learned. Lauren storms down the hallway with purpose, her eyes fixated on her intended path. She doesn't seem to process or even see any familiar faces on her walk to the phones. Slightly oblivious to the other girl's strange demeanor, Camila smiles, lifts a hand to wave hello, and says, "Hey, your appointment is done already?"

Lauren doesn't respond. She continues walking, not even faltering for a moment. Her eyes don't met Camila's. Whatever her goal is, she clearly intends to achieve it. Camila wonders if she even heard her greeting. With a shrug, she continues on her own way to the bathroom, figuring that she can ask her about it at dinner.

After finishing her business, Camila is washing her hands at one of the sinks when she hears a loud wailing noise coming from somewhere in the hall. It's not just any random inmate's cries, though. They belong to Lauren without any doubt. Camila never heard the girl sob too often—she would cry at certain romantic gestures and depressing movies, but she would never full out weep. The sound of her girlfriend's pitiful sobs sends chills down Camila's spine. There isn't any time to speculate why she could possibly be crying so hard in the middle of the hallway. No, Camila needs to act. She needs to move.

Sprinting out of the bathroom in such a hurry that she forgets to turn the sink off and almost runs into several inmates, Camila follows the sound of the sobbing to locate Lauren. What she witnesses when she finally reaches the source makes her heart feel like it's splitting in half.

Lauren, who is usually so composed and well put together, lays on her side on the ground. Her entire face is pink with so many tears flooding out of her eyes, it looks like the stream will never stop. She's crying so hard that she's practically screaming, occasionally taking huge, strangled gasps for air. The phone dangles from its cord, a faint hang-up tone emitting from the speakers. Camila remembers when she would cry this hard after the death of her sister. She remembers one of her first appointments with Lauren where she sobbed into the girl's arms and felt comfort for the first time in months. It breaks her heart to see how the roles have reversed.

Several inmates crowd around the scene, watching the pathetic girl on the ground. Some appear worried, some appear sympathetic, and others appear amused. If there weren't any COs arriving on the scene, Camila would shoo the group away. Her girlfriend crying on the floor is not an acceptable form of entertainment for them. She'd carry her to her cell, politely ask Dinah for some private time, and hold the girl until she calmed down. Just like Lauren did for her.

One of the older female officers lifts Lauren off of the ground with ease, tossing her over her shoulder. Lauren shows no resistance to this maneuver but she also doesn't support her own weight. It's as if the officer is carrying a dead body.

"Move along unless you want an infraction," the officer warns all of the inmates, causing them to scatter except Camila. "You too, Cabello."

"She's my girlfriend. What happened?" Camila frowns, stepping toward them. "I can take her from here. Thank you for getting rid of the other inmates, I swear they're like vultures."

Sadly, the officer just shakes her head at Camila's request to assist Lauren. "Nope. Back to whatever you were doing, you can bother her later."

"But—"

"GO!" The officer raises her voice, causing Camila to jump and speed-walk in the opposite direction. She watches as the CO hoists her girlfriend off in the direction of her cell. She'd go check on her right now, but the dinner bell rings. Lauren is always her first priority—her rumbling stomach begs her to act otherwise. Besides, she figures that Lauren probably needs some time to calm down before Camila can even get a single coherent sentence out of her. She can smuggle a dessert out from diner for her.

Heading through the line at dinner, Camila observes the kitchen staff. They appear at a bit of a loss without their head chef. They seem to have prepared dinner adequately enough to serve it, thankfully. Camila picks up a tray with food that was probably microwaved out of old freezer bags. She knows that as head chef, Lauren tries to cook all of the meals, refusing to comply with the administrators' desires for her to serve premade meals. With this along with an empty space at her regular table with Dinah and Ally, Lauren's absence has largely impacted Camila in less than five minutes.

"What's up with your girl? I heard she was screaming and rolling around in her tears on the ground," Dinah winces as she swallows a chunk of the processed food. Ally wears a more concerned expression on her face than the Polynesian, who is attempting to look worried for the sake of her best friend.

Camila's face crinkles as she hears the skewed story that Dinah heard. It's disgusting how inmates around the prison will embellish things they saw around the building in order to be more entertaining and cause more drama. The pettiness astounds her—it's as if these people are only able to grasp for a sense of happiness by putting others down for their own amusement, which is actually pretty sad in retrospect.

"No," Camila scowls and shakes her head vigorously to refute the false story. "She was crying on the floor next to the phones pretty hard but not screaming or rolling around in her tears..."

"Oh, sorry.. that's just what I heard," Dinah frowns.

"Why was she crying? If you don't want to tell us, that's fine too, I respect boundaries and privacy," Ally assures Camila. Although Camila needs no reassuring for this statement. Ally truly is an angel and every day she questions why the girl is in this place at all.

"I don't know. I was going to ask you that," Camila sighs. Tears well up in her eyes as she is overwhelmed by confusion. Staring down at her food, she realizes that she has no desire to eat. The sad excuse for food on her tray is the farthest thing from appealing, and all of her worry destroys any of her appetite. She immediately regrets her decision to attend dinner first instead of checking up on her girlfriend. Wrapping a cookie from her tray into a small napkin, she stands up saying a word to the two girls and slips out of the cafeteria when the COs are distracted.

Camila scurries down the hall to the cell Lauren shares with Dinah. Peeking inside, she spots the girl curled up in a ball on her bed, her body shaking from her sobs. It's hard to tell if any tears are coming out at this point—it appears that she hasn't stopped crying since they dragged her out of the hall, and she seems to be dehydrating herself. She wonders what could have possibly been said to her brave, strong girlfriend to reduce her into a sobbing mess. Entering the room slowly, climbing up to the top bunk, and cautiously taking a seat on the bed, Camila sets the dessert on the small set of drawers next to them.

"Lauren... babe.... what's wrong?" Camila fights the urge to cry herself. She has always been an empathetic crier. Watching other people weeping breaks her heart, and the fact that it's the love of her life who is so broken right now absolutely ruins her. Placing a comforting hand on Lauren's trembling arm, she whispers, "I'm here... please tell me what happened, I love you. I want to take care of you. You took care of me all of those times, and now I want to take care of you. Please, Lauren, tell me..."

The sobbing never ceases, but Lauren indicates her acknowledgment of Camila's presence by slapping her hand away and scooting further away from her. The younger girl loses the battle against her own tears—they pour out of her eyes as she attempts to stifle her sniffles to no avail. She's at a loss as to what to do next. Earlier this morning, Lauren was cheerful. Sure, she was a little pissed about being forced to attend an appointment with the psychiatrist, but the two of them had some plans to sneak off to the chapel later. She was excited about that. Now, any shred of happiness has disappeared, and all Camila wants is an answer.

She tries to put it together in her head. First, she saw Lauren walking from her appointment to what had to be the phones, since that's where the COs were forced to carry her away. The phone was dangling from its hook, so she must have made a call. Who could she have possibly called? Who could wreck her like this? Camila remembers Lauren telling her that none of her family associates with her anymore. They won't even pick up her phone calls, so she rules them out of the possibilities. That leaves her friends. What the fuck could her friends have told her?

Camila's realization of what this could be shocks her so awfully that she jumps off of the bed, recoiling from her girlfriend as if she just punched her in the gut. This could be related to the entire reason Camila is in the jail in the first place. She did a good job of blocking the memory out of her head. The sound of Taylor's screams fading in the distance as she fell out of the window from her push used to haunt her nightmares until she reunited with Lauren once more. Camila can't think of any other possibility as to why her girlfriend is crying so damn hard.

Then again, what if she's wrong? What if she speaks up about it and it turns out to be something completely different? Maybe one of her friends died in an accident. Maybe her dad suffered from a heart attack and her family finally contacted her since they figured she should know. If she apologizes for killing Taylor and this isn't the reason Lauren is so wrecked, it will only make everything worse. From Camila's experience, assumptions tend to only lead to disaster. So she keeps her mouth shut and exits the room. The only thing she can do is hope that it will be better in the morning.

It's hard to sleep that night. When her body finally allows her to catch some rest and she awakens to the harsh light of the new day and the loud noises of Dinah moving around, she swears she was only asleep for ten minutes. Nonetheless, despite the exhaustion that makes all of her muscles ten times heavier, Camila drags herself out of bed. Now that she's awake, all she can think about is Lauren again. She fantasizes about arriving to Lauren's cell and seeing that her girlfriend is back to normal. Maybe she'll be laying on her bed, joking with Ally about something while flipping through a magazine. Maybe she will have been awaiting Camila, and the two of them will greet each other with a kiss like normal. Lauren will explain what happened, it won't have anything to do with Taylor, and they can carry on like nothing happened.

It's fucked up to continue lying to Lauren about Taylor. The longer a lie carries on, the more twisted it becomes. The deeper the liar digs their grave. A toxic lie that is exposed early may only cause some surface damage. A toxic lie that is withheld for copious amounts of time, on the other hand, will only increase in toxicity. Its fatalities will be far more deadly. The chances of the liar and the person being lied to coming out without any harm are almost none. Yet Camila can't find it in her to fess up. She will let this lie fester until it exposes itself.

To her dismay, when she arrives at Lauren's cell, the girl is in the exact same position as yesterday. Ally makes eye contact with Camila, shaking her head and giving her a sad shrug. She's not going to try physically comforting her like yesterday, since that didn't result in anything good. So she stays at the doorway, and says, "Lauren, I'm here for you. And I love you. Are you okay?"

No response. She waits for another minute before sighing and leaving the cell.

She repeats this several times a day. Once before and after every meal, and once during recreation time. Once before bedtime. The results remain the same with each try. After four days of this without any results, she begins to wonder if her girlfriend will ever be okay again.

*****

On the fifth night of her breakdown, Lauren lays in bed staring at the ceiling. When she sobs, no more tears come out. She's definitely dehydrated. All of her energy has been consumed and now, she has nothing left. If she doesn't get her ass out of this bed and take care of her body, she has a feeling she will wither. Her body can't take much more of this.

If she were suffering this dilemma in the real world outside of the prison, she could run away. She could take a trip to California and drink away her sorrows at the gay bars with her friends. She could fly away to Colorado, go hiking, and get lost in the beautiful scenery. Hell, if she wanted to invest in the money, she could fly to Europe, pretend her name isn't Lauren Jauregui and pretend her problems don't exist. Here in the prison, running away from your problems isn't exactly a thing. There's nowhere to run.

As a therapist, Lauren is well aware that running away from her problems would be the farthest thing from a solution. But it would surely make her feel a lot fucking better. Lauren is a problem solver. She can usually take problems and find creative solutions, whether they're her own problems or other people's problems. That's why she was a great therapist, and a fucking amazing murderer. Yet right now, she only sees one solution to her problem, and it's far from creative. And it's far from rational.

"I want to die," her tired voice mutters. It's the first time she's actually used her vocal cords for something other than crying in days—her voice almost sounds foreign to herself. And it's so barely audible that she's surprised when she hears Ally's voice responding to her own. Why is the girl even awake at this hour?

"Lauren?" Ally sounds awake, alert, and concerned. The top half of her head appears at the end of Lauren's bed—she must be standing on her tiptoes on her own mattress.

"You heard that?" Lauren frowns, almost embarrassed by this. She didn't even mean to say that out loud in the first place, it was a thought meant to stay in her head.

"Yeah," Ally nods. "Can I come up there?"

For days, Lauren has pushed people away. She's refused people's help, simply because she couldn't fathom requiring anyone to be there for her in the first place. She was scared that if she told someone about what happened, it would make the reality of it hit her even harder. But finally, she lets her walls down. She nods her head, moving aside to give the tiny girl space.

Ally climbs up onto the bed, crawling next to Lauren and wrapping her arms around the broken girl's body. Just this gesture alone is enough to send Lauren over the edge crying again. They're dry sobs, since she still has no tears left. Ally rubs her back in a soothing manner—this girl's presence is oddly comforting.

It's enough to make Lauren comfortable enough with blurting out what broke her in the first place. "Camila killed my sister, Ally," she chokes out, beginning to sob even harder as she hears herself admit this fact for the first time. The knowledge itself was hard enough—now that she's said it out loud, there's no taking it back. There's no pretending that it didn't happen. There's no more hoping that it was merely a bad dream that she can wake up from. This is real. This is her reality now. "That's why she's here. She pushed her out of a fucking window and I don't know what to do."

Ally's eyebrows raise in shock. She wants to know why Camila would do this—what motive could the girl possibly have for killing an innocent girl? She knew Lauren and Camila's relationship was toxic and dysfunctional from the start, but this is a whole new level of insane. But she knows that right now, she has to comfort Lauren. So she keeps her questions and thoughts to herself, simply holding the girl tighter. "Oh Lauren... Lauren, I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say. I don't think there's anything I can say. I can't pretend to understand what you're going through. Just know that I'm here for you, okay? You and your family are forever in my prayers. If you ever need anything, I'm here," she assures her the best she can.

"I just need you to hold me right now," Lauren breathes out heavily, trying not to lose it all over again.

"Of course Lauren," Ally nods and stays exactly where she is.

"Thank you, Ally. I love you," Lauren sighs, her body relaxing in Ally's hold. The girl might be tiny, but she's holding her together.

As she says 'I love you' to Ally, she begins to wonder if this is more than platonic. From day one, the girl knew she was a serial killer but still treated her with genuine kindness. She's a true ball of sunshine, and Lauren wonders if she was wrong about Camila being her soulmate. Right now, Ally is the one person making her feel better when no one else could. What if Ally is her true soulmate? Ally would never hurt her, and Lauren could never hurt Ally.

In her mind, everything clicks. This is more than platonic love. As the smaller girl holds her tight, Lauren feels what she believes to be herself falling in love all over again.

"Ally... I love you..." Lauren repeats slowly, tilting the smaller girl's face to plant a kiss on her lips.

To her dismay, Ally doesn't return the kiss. She pulls away with an appalled expression on her face that she clearly is trying to hide.

"Lauren, I'm straight," Ally frowns. "I'm sorry. I'm here for you but I can't be here for you like _that_. And... for what it's worth, I don't think you're in love with me either. You're lost and confused right now because Camila hurt you, and since I'm the only person comforting you, you think you love me. It's misplaced. I'm sorry."

Lauren realizes that she's probably right, and curses internally. Fuck, she scared away the one person who was offering unconditional support and comfort. She ruins everything, doesn't she?

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, oh my god I ruined it didn't I? I fucked up. Shit," Lauren buries her face in her hands. The amount of embarrassment and shame she feels right now is unbearable. It feels as if all of the blood in her body is rushing to her cheeks.

"No, it's okay," Ally sighs and pulls away from her. "You should probably get some rest. I'm going to be in my bed if you need me... and I think you should try to get in the kitchen tomorrow. It might help to get lost in something you love."

Lauren nods and watches the other girl climb off of the bed. For once, she falls asleep not because of her exhaustion from crying, but because she's ready. She's ready to start tomorrow anew. She's ready to tackle her problems head-on.

The next morning, Lauren awakens at 7 am before most of the other prisoners. She exits the cell quietly, hoping not to awaken Ally, and heads to the bathroom for a well-overdue shower. It's a miracle that Ally didn't vomit while cuddling with her last night, her hair is so greasy that it looks wet and she must smell like shit.

As she showers, she contemplates the events from last night. She isn't sure what possessed her to think that she loved Ally. Yeah, she loves Ally, but only as a friend. It was a moment of vulnerability—hopefully the two of them can overlook it and continue their friendship without any awkwardness. Camila is still her one and only soulmate, despite all of the lies. She's not ready to face her yet, though.

Emerging from the shower feeling refreshed, clean, and awake, Lauren dresses herself in her chef uniform and heads to the kitchens. Ally was right—cooking will be the perfect consolation activity. The perfect distraction. And she knows exactly what she wants to cook.

Heading into the back of the freezer, Lauren is happy to find the pieces of Robinson's body that she hid in a bin in the corner. Covered in multiple layers of bags to obscure the contents on the inside, only the essentials for what she can serve for a meal are present. The other parts, like her torso, head, bones, and more, are probably in a dumpster at this point. It's uncanny how easy it is to get rid of bodies as a the head of the kitchen—the dumpster is located right outside the kitchen, so Lauren can simply put the body parts at the bottom of a garbage bag filled with other content and throw them in the dumpster without anyone ever discovering.

Hoisting the bags to the main kitchen, Lauren starts boiling a large pot of water in order to defrost the body parts. While she waits for this process to finish, she starts to prepare a pot pie sort of dish. With the human flesh, she can serve "chicken" pot pie.

An hour before breakfast, Lauren's kitchen staff appears.

"Hey boss, you're back!" one of the inmates exclaims happily. None of them were happy about serving the processed food, but they were lost without her.

"I am," Lauren smiles. "I've got all of today covered. I'll hand you food to serve up front but after that, take the day off. You deserve it."

None of the staff can argue with that. Lauren prepares some of the generic, processed food for both breakfast and lunch, since the main entree she is working on now will be used for dessert.

After lunch, the body parts in the boiling water have finally thawed. She removes them from the pot carefully, setting them on the tables used for cutting. With a butcher knife and gloves, she's ready to prepare the flesh. She saved mostly fleshy parts, including the thighs, calves, and arms. The thighs are going to be the major source of meat for most of the dish. Lauren takes her knife and scores the surface of the skin, cutting lightly and minding the depth and direction of her slices. After flaying the outer layer of the skin, she places it in a trash pile that will be disposed later. Now that the skin is out of the way, the fleshy, meaty part of Robinson's body is ready to be prepared for the dish.

Chopping the pieces of flesh off of each body part into small squares until there's nothing left but bone, Lauren throws them onto a skillet, disposing of the extra remains. In her mind, she doesn't view this as cooking a dead human being. She's simply preparing a meal for the prison with an exotic meat that they should be thankful for. She doubts that Frangipane, the old kitchen head, ever took the time out of her day to create a full-blown gourmet meal for everyone.

Once the meat has finished cooking in the skillet, she pours it into the saucepan where the rest of the pot pie mixture sits. She stirs it for a few minutes then deems it complete, carrying it out herself to the front, just in time for the dinner bell to ring.

All of the inmates eagerly line up, ecstatic when they notice that they're being served actual food prepared by Lauren. Several of the comment on how good it smells, and how they could smell it from their cells. When Ally makes her way to the front of the line, she beams a huge smile at Lauren. "I'm glad you're back in the kitchen. Is this pot pie? It smells DELICIOUS."

"Yes it is! Thank you again for last night, and for your advice. It really did help. You mean a lot to me, Ally," Lauren smiles gratefully back at the girl. Their interaction is cut off by inmates impatiently nudging her out of the way, wanting to get food on their trays.

Lauren serves everyone in line, and Camila is nowhere to be found. It's a bit of a relief, she isn't sure how she would have reacted. She isn't sure if she would have relapsed if she laid eyes upon the girl. For now, she enjoys the moment. She allows herself to enjoy the good vibes radiating from the cafeteria as everyone digs into their pot pies. Around the room, she hears people commenting on how good the food tastes. How glad they are that Lauren is back. Every single inmate shovels the pot pie into their mouth, unaware that the meat in the food is human. They don't question it for a second. It doesn't taste abnormal at all.

Watching this fills Lauren with joy. For the first time in the past few days, she is invigorated with true happiness.

 


	9. Chapter 9

_"I'm sorry."_

Camila's last words before she pushed the younger Jauregui out of the window in her apartment echo. The feeling of her hands shoving Taylor with all of her strength and the sight of the girl's confused expression contorting into a horrified expression fill her senses. Nothing will erase the memory of the shriek that exits Taylor's mouth as gravity sends her body soaring into the rock hard concrete below the building. As her body hits the ground, the shattering of her bones and her skull create a sickening, loud cracking noise. A crimson puddle of blood spreads beneath her corpse.

Tears brimming the edges of her eyes, Camila turns away from the window, covering her ears with her hands and shaking. What has she done? Oh god, what did she do?

Right as she blinks the heavy moisture from her eyes, the first thing she sees is Taylor standing in front of her. Black and blue bruises cover nearly every inch of her skin. One of her eyes is mutilated, and blood drips out of her nostrils and from her mouth.

"Why did you push me, Camila?" Taylor asks. Her voice is distorted and slightly demonic.

"I-I don't know, I fucked up, I'm sorry, oh my god," Camila panics and apologizes, taking steps backward as the girl who should be dead from the fall advances toward her.

"No you aren't," Taylor shakes her head and cackles. "You're just like her. You're just like my fucked up sister. You are no better."

"N-No I'm not!" Camila cries. "Stop, please--"

Before Camila can get down on her knees and grovel for forgiveness, Taylor's hands clutch Camila's shoulders and forcefully shove her through the window. The smaller girl's own screams resonate through her head, seemingly amplified louder than any sound. As she watches the window she was pushed out of while tumbling to the ground, the figure who looks out of it and watches her fall is not the girl who pushed her. It is Lauren, standing there with a sickening smirk on her face.

Right as her body makes contact with the ground, she sits up in her bunk with a gasp. Beads of sweat create an uncomfortable sticky feeling against her prison uniform. Her heart palpitates against her chest. She can feel its violent beat on almost every part of her body.

It was just a nightmare. She never thought she would be happier to wake up in her prison cell.

Dinah stares at her with a quizzical expression. She is just now returning from Lauren's dinner, appearing full and blissful from the cafeteria food. After days of eating meals that had just been prepared by heating up a frozen food bag, it was nice to finally have a "home-cooked" meal. She might have a strong distaste for the Cuban girl, but she can't deny that her cooking is surpasses the work of previous prison chefs by far. Burping, the aftertaste of Lauren's creation lingers in her mouth. "You good, Walz?"

Over the past few days, Dinah and Camila grew a lot closer and had a lot of bonding time. With Lauren out of the picture temporarily, Camila had no one else to spend time with, so she spent all of her extra time with Dinah. The girl who had once intimidated the Latina on her first day in the prison turned out to be wonderful at listening to her vent, consoling her when she cried, and making her laugh even when the situation seemed unbelievably bleak. Their friendship evolved enough to the point where Dinah developed a special nickname for Camila. In an institution full of psychopaths, jerks, crazies, and criminals, both of them are pleasantly surprised to be able to form a bond such as their own. Camila distinctly remembers being advised against forming relationships with other prisoners since they aren't "real"--however, she can envision her friendship with Dinah lasting beyond either of their sentences. That is, assuming she can survive long enough to see the outside world again.

"I'm fine...just a nightmare," Camila cringes. Not wanting to think or talk about her dream any further, she changes the subject. "Did I miss dinner?"

"Yes and girl, you reeeeaaaally missed out. Your girlfriend is back in the kitchen and it was the first real meal I've had in days," Dinah rubs her stomach and moans, exaggerating her love for the food. "I guess the food was nasty before Jauregui came in...but you know how it goes! You get used to something good, take it for granted, and it's even harder without it."

The moment Dinah reveals that Lauren has returned to her cooking duties, Camila tunes out and is unable to listen to any other word that comes out of the taller girl's mouth. "Wait wait wait. Lauren is back in the kitchen? She left her cell? Did you see her?" she shoots out questions at a rapid pace, resulting in a puzzled expression from the other girl who could barely understand a single word.

"Slow down, Walz. You just talked faster than people on commercials who read out the really janky ass side effects for medicine at the very end of the commercial," Dinah chuckles.

"You said Lauren was back in the kitchen. How do you know? Did you see her?" Camila repeats, slowly this time, although every one of her senses is on high alert. She suddenly has enough energy to where she feels like she could run a marathon. Now, the nightmare is the absolute last thing on her mind.

"I didn't see her but everyone was talking about it. The food was back to normal too, so..." Dinah shrugs. Camila can't just sit around anymore. If Lauren cooked tonight, that means that she had enough energy to haul herself out of bed and out of the cell. She has countless questions swirling around her head as to why this happened, but she won't get any answers by sitting around talking to her friend. Without another word, she jumps out of her bed and speedwalks out of the cell, down the hall to her girlfriend's.

"Bye to you too," Dinah mutters under her breath, watching her smaller friend speed down the hallway.

If there was a door to slam open in Lauren's cell, Camila would probably do so without intending to, simply because she is so alarmed and excited by the news of her girlfriend finally breaking out of her depressive, reclusive state. There's always the chance that the COs put their foot down and forced her to get back into the kitchen because that is her job. But on her journey to Lauren's cell, all Camila can do is keep the most optimistic scenarios in her mind. It's all she can do to keep herself going. She doesn't know what she will do if she arrives at the cell to see Lauren curled up in a ball under the covers on her bed again.

Stepping into the cell, it's the exact sight that Camila had been hoping to see for the past several days. When she would make her way down to see her girlfriend, she would create scenarios in her head where Lauren would suddenly be happy again. She would imagine her sitting up on her bed with a book or a magazine, bantering and laughing with Ally. That didn't become a reality until now.

Lauren is just now taking off her chef's apron off and setting it aside as she makes small talk with Ally. Although Camila doesn't say a word or make a noise, she becomes aware of her presence and turns to face her.

A smile grows on the Cuban's lips. It's not the beaming, enamored smile that she would usually look at Camila with, however. But it isn't a fabricated smile either. It's a gentle smile--it's one that you might expect to see after someone has just finished fighting a long, tiring battle. One that a person might have on their face after they have lost everything, and are now just piecing themselves back together. While it doesn't even come close to the smile Lauren would normally give Camila when the other girl would walk into the room, it's something. And that's all that matters.

"Lauren...I..." Camila doesn't know what to say or ask.

"I'm going to go to the rec room and--yeah, I'm just gonna go," Ally says quickly, not bothering to come up with an excuse. She leaves the room with haste, giving the two girls privacy.

They watch each other in silence, unsure of who is going to break it first. They're unsure of what to do next. Camila is speechless--although she had been dreaming of this moment for the past several days, she never came up with what to say when it actually occurred. So Lauren not only breaks the silence, but also removes the space between them.

Taking Camila's hand, she says, "Hi, Camz."

Camz. The nickname that Lauren has called her for their entire relationship. The fact that the other girl is using it once more instantly comforts Camila. When she walked into the room not knowing what to expect, she felt like she was in unfamiliar territory. Now, she feels like she is at home again with the other girl here.

"Hi," Camila pulls Lauren into a tight embrace, practically melting into her girlfriend's arms. Her eyes fill with warm tears that spill down her cheeks, along with her tiny body shaking with sobs. "I thought that I had lost you. I was so fucking worried, Lauren."

"Shhh. I'm here now. I'm back," Lauren rubs Camila's back until her sobs calm down and her tears cease. Pulling away from the hug, she takes the younger girl's hand and leads her to the bed where they sit next to one another.

"Will you please tell me what happened?" Camila asks. She would normally tell Lauren that it's okay if she doesn't want to talk about it, but she feels like she deserves the right to know. After spending the last few days thinking that her girlfriend was never going to be the same again, she deserves to know what broke her so badly that she couldn't even leave her cell.

Lauren nods. "A lot has happened. Or...I guess it was just one thing. But it changed everything. Ally basically forced me to get out of the cell and go back into the kitchen because she thought it would help. And it did. It gave me something to do and I reflected a lot on what to do. It let me reflect on what to do, and where to take my life from here."

When Lauren pauses and doesn't continue, Camila says, "And...?"

Taking time to be able to process and accept what she is about to vocalize to Camila, Lauren closes her eyes, gulps, opens her eyes to look into her girlfriend's worried ones, and says, "I know that you killed Taylor."

Almost instantly, Camila releases Lauren's hand and retracts her own. Her face is filled with horror and terror. "L-Lauren... how...I...I'm so..I'm sorry..I..."

Realizing that this was a heavy bomb of information to drop on her so quickly and suddenly, and also recognizing that Camila may be scared that Lauren is about to murder her, she takes Camila's hand in her own again and shushes her. She uses her most soothing tone upon speaking to her girlfriend--it's so soothing and calm that it's almost creepy.

"Shhhh. Camila, I'm not going to hurt you. The prison psychiatrist accidentally revealed the information to me. She figured I already knew about Taylor's death and asked me how I was dealing with it. That's why I broke down in the halls, I think you saw me. I called my mom and she told me that you did it. But...it's okay now. What you did was fucked up. Having to hear about it from the fucking prison psychiatrist months after it happened instead of from you twisted the knife even further. You completely flipped my life upside down," Lauren sighs, pausing to wipe tears that are falling from Camila's face yet again. "But I guess that's how you felt too, huh? I lied to you too. I deceived you for months--no, over a YEAR--and you had to find out on your own. It flipped your entire world upside down. I don't want to say that we are even, because killing each other's loved ones is not something people can simply 'get even' with. But... I suppose it is only fair. The universe has reached its equilibrium again. I took someone you loved from you, and you took someone I loved from me."

"I'm so fucking sorry. I have nightmares about it almost every night. I can still hear--...no..I won't torture you with the..." Camila attempts to voice her thoughts but stops herself after almost every word. She doesn't want to hurt Lauren with talking about Taylor's death, just as Lauren didn't want to hurt Camila by talking about Sofi's death. "I don't know what to say. I think...I think we're ruined beyond repair.."

"Really? I think the opposite, actually," Lauren states calmly. "We went through similar losses. Camila, you'll never forgive me for killing Sofi. Which I understand, because I'll never forgive you. This changes everything, but at the same time, it changes nothing."

"You're...you're not making any sense," Camila furrows her eyebrows at her girlfriend. She wonders if she is high.

"We're going to move past this. Do you believe in fate still?" she asks.

"Yeah, I think so."

"You do. You believed it even more than me when we first started dating, and now I believe it too. And I fully believe with my entire heart and soul that we were meant to be together until the very end, no matter what hell we have to go through to get there. You were brought back to me after I thought we were ruined beyond repair. And the way you were brought back to me...it may have been fucked up, but ultimately the universe returned to me what I put out," Lauren rambles, squeezing her girlfriend's hand. This time, she doesn't pull away.

Camila is conflicted. On one hand, she was expecting Lauren to react a lot differently to the news of Taylor's death. She grieved _hard_ for a few days, and now she's okay? Now she's ready to resume her relationship with Camila and her life as if nothing happened? She begins to wonder if this is healthy.

Lauren senses Camila's unease, so she leans in for a short kiss. Except, for the kiss, it's mostly Lauren doing the lip work while Camila sits there, frozen, not sure how to react.

"What I also decided during my self-reflection period today is that there will be absolutely no more lies between us. No more secrets, no more deceit, no more hiding any parts of the truth. I'll start," Lauren takes a deep breath, ready to reveal everything she has been keeping from her during their time in the prison together. "I killed Maritza, Frangipane, and Robinson."

The news isn't really surprising to Camila. Dinah has been hinting toward it from the very beginning, and although Camila has constantly denied the Polynesian's accusations against her girlfriend, deep inside she knew all along. The mysterious abundance of prison deaths was never a coincidence. She's slightly annoyed by Lauren hiding the fact from her, but there could be worse.

"Okay," Camila says.

"Just..okay?" Lauren squints, attempting to gauge her girlfriend's true feelings on the matter.

"I mean, it's not the most shocking news. Part of me knew it was you all along. Anything else?" Camila shrugs.

For a moment, Lauren has an internal struggle on whether or not to reveal her activities with CO Malik. Her murders didn't piss Camila off, but she's almost certain that revealing that she has been performing sexual favors on the man in exchange for other items won't resonate well with the other girl. It would be so easy to keep this hidden from Camila and avoid a fight. However, when she said that she didn't want there to be any more secrets between the two of them, she truly meant it. Lies and deceit are the two things that have ruined their relationship the most. In order to prevent them from wearing down the foundations of their relationship any further, she's prepared to get everything out in the open and face the consequences of revealing the truth.

Gulping, Lauren says, "I've been giving CO Malik sexual favors in exchange for him retrieving items from the outside for me. Shit that will help us escape."

 _This_ news is surprising to Camila. Her jaw drops in a combination of shock and anger, her eyebrows raising and her arms crossing. She completely expected violence and murder out of her girlfriend, but not cheating. Lauren would always talk about how they were meant to be together. How she couldn't envision herself ever with anyone else; that Camila was, is, and always will be her endgame. The fact that she lied to Camila and went behind her back to fuck someone else contradicts everything that she has ever told the girl. It shatters her trust even further.

Maybe it's fucked up, but Camila almost wishes her other secret was about more murders. She was more comfortable with that. This cheating is inexcusable, unexpected, and a sucker punch to her heart. Was all of this for nothing?

Camila had been fuming quietly at Lauren long enough for the other girl to feel uneasy by her silence. "Camz..."

"Don't you _dare_ use any fucking pet names or nicknames on me right now," Camila's voice is monotone, with the occasional crack. Lauren feels her stomach drop as she is reminded of the last time her girlfriend was angry enough at her to order her not to call her "Camz"; it was when she discovered her true identity as a murderer. "You have the audacity to come here and tell me that you think that our relationship can be salvaged when you've continued to go behind my back even here at the prison? Murder didn't surprise me. It doesn't surprise me anymore. I can get past that. I can't get past the fact that you claim to be in love with me...you claim that I'm the only person that you love and you look me in the eyes and tell me this without wavering. You kiss me and hold me and fuck me and now you're telling me that you're doing this with someone else? With _him_ , out of everyone? I can't fucking believe you....I trusted you and you do this to me..."

"Camz, _listen to me_ ," Lauren pleads. She looks desperately at her girlfriend for approval to continue speaking.

Camila is about to slap her. She's about to punch her and tell her to never speak to her again. Listening to whatever bullshit Lauren wants to try to spew out of her mouth is the absolute last thing she wants to do right now. But the last time she didn't listen to her girlfriend when she asked for it, it led them to exactly where they are right now--prison. And she immediately regretted her decision to not listen afterward.

"What." Camila grumbles reluctantly.

"He is _nothing_ to me. Camila, I swear to god. He is nothing but a pawn. I was never lying and I meant it when I told you that you are my one and only soulmate. I don't kiss him, I don't love him, I don't tell him anything. You are my one and only love, the only person I will ever love. And god, I know how fucked up it seems--no..how fucked up it _is_. But sometimes we have to make sacrifices for our own self-preservation. Camila, Malik has been supplying me with items for my plan to get us out. I can't tell you the plan right now, but _please_ just trust me," Lauren grabs Camila's hand. Surprisingly, the other girl doesn't flinch or pull away. She seems to be contemplating Lauren's words, and if they are a good enough excuse for her lying and cheating.

"You said no more lies. Why can't you tell me the plan then?" Camila questions.

"I'm not lying. The plan is to get us out. Both of us. We'll get out of here together and live the life that we would fantasize about. I just can't tell you because it's one of those things that you're safer not knowing. Like, you know in those crime movies where someone doesn't tell someone else something in case they get interrogated and it's better if they don't know--"

Camila interrupts Lauren as she stumbles in her attempt at explaining her reasoning behind not revealing her mysterious plan. "Okay, I get it," she puts her hand up to stop her. "Lauren, I really don't know what to say to you. You cheated on me and nothing can excuse cheating."

"I know. I agree. I was wrong and I should have let you in on this earlier. I should have talked to you about this before I even did anything in the first place, and I'm _so_ fucking sorry. I know you don't want to hear anything about it or the details, but just know that he really doesn't mean anything to me. When I am..doing the favors for him..I'm really fucking miserable. The only thing that keeps me going through it is that it's going to get us out in the long run," Lauren sighs and notices Camila subtly recoil at the mention of her doing anything sexual with the man. She understands. If the roles were reversed, she would be livid at the other girl for laying hands on someone else other than herself. As her girlfriend doesn't respond to anything she just said, she continues. "Camila, what I did was unforgivable and I can't excuse it. Nothing can. But--look at me, Camila--please tell me that you know I love you. That I'm in love with you and I did this with our best intentions in mind."

"With _your_ best intentions in mind," Camila corrects her. Another long pause ensues, and Lauren is almost certain that she has lost the other girl. She's about ready to start going through the seven stages of grief in her mind until Camila breaks the silence with a sigh. "Yes. I know you love me and all that. And..."

Another sigh and roll of the eyes. Camila is seriously pissed.

"...and I still love you, too. I just need space right now, okay?"

Lauren practically throws herself into Camila's arms, squeezing her tightly and then realizing that she did the complete opposite of what the other girl requested. Pulling away almost as hastily as she initiated the embrace, she grins at the other girl. It's the same grin that Camila had always remembered--not the weak smile that she was given earlier in their talk.

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow...?" Lauren asks hesitantly. "If you want."

"Yeah," Camila nods, then swiftly turns and exits the cell.

Their conversation is not the conversation that she imagined in her head on the walk down to Lauren's cell. In some ways, it went a lot better than she expected. In other ways, it went disastrously. Although the information that Lauren revealed to her tonight definitely changes the dynamic in their relationship and her ability to trust in the other girl a lot, Camila was not just saying that she loves the other girl to appease her. She meant it. After all, true love does not fade easily at the first sight of trouble. True love perseveres and is made with the ability to endure challenges such as this.

People may look in on their relationship and view it as toxic. Perhaps they're right. Perhaps it is toxic and the most unhealthy relationship to ever exist. But Camila also knows that the critical onlookers are not the ones in the relationship. They haven't endured everything that the two of them have gone through. Sure, it isn't the perfect Disney relationship where everything is constantly butterflies, sunshine, and rainbows. But in their own worlds, it is perfect, because they have each other.

And she truly believes that they belong together, unashamedly so.

*****

The week following their heart-to-heart session in Lauren's cell, they've been desperately trying to return to normalcy. They've been trying to regain the dynamic their relationship once possessed before the news of Taylor's death reached Lauren. However, no matter how hard Camila tries to push the fact that her supposed "soulmate" has effortlessly lied to her face about several major things, it doesn't work.

When she sees Officer Malik roaming around the prison, all Camila can imagine is Lauren on her knees for that disgusting man with his gross dick in her mouth. The thought makes her want to simultaneously cry and gag. Lauren calls her sexual favors for Malik a "business transaction" but Camila will never view it as that, no matter how hard she tries to change her perception.

Yet, she puts in all of the effort she can muster. She goes back to eating all three meals with Lauren. During recreation time, they are constantly together once again. Sometimes when they are talking, joking, and laughing like old times, Camila briefly forgets about all of the lies and the deceit their relationship has endured. She is reminded of why she believes they belong together until the very end. Lauren's touches on her body still feel like sparks, and her kisses still leave her breathless.

But at night when Camila is left alone with her thoughts, she can't help but wonder about what other paths her life could have taken. What if she hadn't killed Taylor? Where would she be right now? Would she still be sulking in her parent's house, overly sheltered and prohibited from truly living her life despite being well into her twenties? Or would she have met someone who didn't bring so many complications? Someone who didn't kill for pleasure and wouldn't lie to Camila's face with such ease?

She always manages to push these what-ifs out of her head. From both experience and, ironically, Lauren's advice from their therapy sessions, what-ifs only exist to bring her down further. Dwelling on the past would drive her into the same dark place she was after her sister's death and after her discovery of Lauren's true self. It doesn't matter what could have gone differently anymore. What matters is now, and she is motivated to try her hardest to repair her relationship with Lauren.

And, despite everything, she still believes in fate. So ultimately, she believes she was meant to be led down this path regardless of everything. She believes she was meant to endure all of the hardships that have come her way. Fate led her to Lauren, and nothing that has happened since has been a coincidence.

Yesterday, Lauren was absent during lunch. Camila wondered if she was off murdering someone again, or perhaps she was off plotting for her supposed "genius escape plan". Or perhaps she was on her knees for Officer Malik again. The thought of the latter sickened her so much that she had to push it out of her mind quickly otherwise she'd lose her appetite for her entire meal. However, when Lauren found Camila in her cell during the following rec hours, she revealed the true reason why she wasn't present at lunch.

Apparently, the ABC documentary series 20/20 is putting together a special two-hour long special featuring the story of the Miami Butcher. They're doing segments on her childhood and life before the murders, all of her notorious murders, and the terrible aftermath of it all. The team plans on interviewing several family members of her victims and her own parents. But what they want most is to interview herself and Camila.

They apologized for the short notice, but it was the only day that worked and the network set a deadline for the production of their documentary. The crew will film short clips of Lauren's "daily routine" at the prison, and then take her into a room where she will be interviewed alongside Camila. Figuring that she has nothing to lose and also nothing really to do tomorrow, she agreed to an interview.

"So? What do you say to a quick harmless interview?" Lauren asks. "Better than just sitting around all day doing the same shit."

Camila hesitates. On one hand, she's trying so hard to view Lauren and their relationship in the same way that she used to, but she worries that the interviewer's questions may cause some bad feelings to resurface for both of them. On the other hand, she feels like it might be good for them too. And it sounds like Lauren has already made up her mind about it. "Sure."

Sensing her girlfriend's hesitation, Lauren frowns. "Are you sure? You don't have to do it if you don't want to, I promise. I don't want to make you uncomfortable in any way."

"No, I'm sure. I'm just a little nervous on what they'll ask. Plus I've never been that great in front of a camera," Camila jokes.

"Camz...I mean it, you don't have to do this," Lauren reiterates.

"Let's do it," Camila smiles. Lauren's lips curl up into a grin.

"Cool."

*****

When the documentary crew arrives at the prison, every inmate attempts to talk to them and ask them for an interview. Many of the inmates want to see themselves on TV and fight each other over who can be in the background for some of the shots. These fights end up getting quite heated and the COs end up having to threaten everyone with infractions and the removal of certain privileges if they keep it up. Thankfully, that is enough to get everyone calmed down for the most part.

"So Lauren, we're going to film a short opening segment of your 'routine' in the prison. Obviously we don't have the time to stick around and follow you the whole day so we'll just walk through the actions of everything very quickly, okay? Let's start at your bunk," the director explains. "There's going to be an instrumental playing over the clip so you don't need to worry about what you say."

They start with a short shot of Lauren "waking up" in her bunk and following her to the bathroom to watch her "get ready." This follows with her heading to the kitchen and putting on her cooking uniform, pretending to prepare a meal with the other kitchen workers. Finally, they want to film some footage of her interacting with the inmates she holds the closest relationships with. First, they gather her, Ally, and Dinah together in the rec room and record some short footage of their interactions together. Dinah doesn't like being associated with Lauren, but she does enjoy being in the spotlight for national television. She happily puts on an act of liking Lauren for a spot on this documentary.

The final footage they film for the opening segment is of Lauren and Camila. While the director has been giving some instruction to her most of the morning on what to do for the sake of the clip, the director doesn't need to instruct the two of them to do anything. Their interactions are raw and come naturally--and they're exactly what the crew was hoping to film for this documentary. Footage of them holding hands, smiling, and kissing. Footage of them acting like a normal couple. Show this clip to a foreigner who knows nothing of the Miami Butcher or Lauren Jauregui and they'd believe they are just two happy girls in love in a normal relationship. And that's why the two of them are so fascinating, and why the documentary crew believes this will be revolutionary footage.

After a surprisingly exhausting morning of filming, Lauren and Camila are led to the interview room, which is one of the luxury holding rooms for "high status inmates." Which is code for celebrity inmates who are there very temporarily.

"Camila, we're going to conduct Lauren's interview first and then ask you to join. You can sit behind the camera with the rest of the crew if you want, or leave the room and be called in. Whichever you prefer," the director explains.

"I'll stay," Camila says as if it's a no brainer. She watches her girlfriend be led into the setup in front of the camera. The interviewer is a middle-aged ordinary looking man who doesn't appear too uneasy around Lauren. This must not be his first interview with a serial killer. Once Lauren is seated in the recliner opposite of the interviewer, the makeup team quickly spruces her up and clips a small microphone on the collar of her shirt. There is not a seat for Camila yet--she figures they didn't want an empty seat for the shot.

Once the cameras start rolling, it amazes Camila how natural Lauren looks in front of them. It's as if she was meant to be filmed as the star. Of course, this is a documentary following the life and motives of a serial killer; definitely not something most people aspire toward. But Camila doesn't doubt that Lauren would have made it as a model or maybe even an actress, had her life not ended her up in prison.

"Over the span of fourteen months, twenty-six separate individuals disappeared from plain sight from Miami, Florida. It became clear that these were not mere kidnappings--they were murders. Charged with twenty-six murders, Lauren Jauregui meets the ranks of Jeffrey Dahmer, Ted Bundy, and BTK. I'm David Muir here with ABC News and 20/20, and tonight, I am here with the Miami Butcher," the interviewer turns to the camera and reads his rehearsed monologue. He then turns to Lauren, and the interview has officially begun. "Good afternoon, Lauren. We're here with you in the Lowell Correctional Institution in Ocala, Florida. You managed to stay under the radar from police and FBI investigations for three years, and it's reported that you weren't ever a suspect in their investigations. Did you ever imagine you would end up here?"

"I always knew it was a possibility. I'm not stupid, clearly. Did I think I was going to get caught the way I did? No. I'm a very calculated person. I was discreet when I was taking a victim back to my house. No person ever stepped foot in my basement except myself. The bodies immediately were disposed in the acid, and mixed the waste in among my everyday trash that went to the landfills undetected. For someone like myself to be caught from a journal is not only ironic...it's pathetic," Lauren answers honestly, her eyes never breaking contact with the interviewer's. She pretends that Camila isn't there listening. It makes it easier to answer that way. She can't imagine that hearing all of this is easy for the girl.

"Tell us more about the journal. What was your point of keeping it? Why did you leave it in a drawer in the guest room instead of the basement, where supposedly no one stepped foot in there besides you?"

Lauren doesn't enjoy talking about the way she was caught. It's a strike to her pride. It makes her feel inferior that this was her downfall. This shows in her answer, where she speaks with a hint of bitterness in her tone. "It was just sentiment. I could have kept it on my damn phone. And yeah, I should have done a better job hiding it. Everything about the journal is admittedly out of character for me. I started it during my first real intentional murder and continued to fill it in after every kill and it just became a bit of a memory token for me."

The interviewer reaches into his pocket and pulls out the journal. Lauren visibly winces from the sight of it. Camila cringes from behind the camera. He flips through it as he asks his next question. "You were convicted with twenty-six counts of murder, but in this journal, there are twenty-eight names listed. Can you elaborate on the reasoning for the two extra names?"

Lauren nods, her posture relaxing as she gets to go into further detail about her murders. The previous topic was something she didn't enjoy discussing. This, she could talk about for hours. Now, she finally has the chance to do what she has been urging to do for years--and the whole world will see it.

"It's the first and twenty-eighth names listed. The first is Keana Issartel. She's not considered part of my murder series because it wasn't direct. She wasn't killed in Miami like the rest of them. This actually happened about a month before my first murder as the Miami Butcher. I was in California, celebrating with my friends because I had just obtained my Master's. Keana was friends with my friends and she drank a bit too much. They left me to take care of her because we had to share a room. I tried propping her up on her side so she wouldn't choke on her vomit in her sleep, but I woke up to her actually choking on her vomit. For whatever reason I just...didn't help her. I stood by the bed and watched her suffocate on her own puke and did nothing. I claimed that she died while I was sleeping and no one ever questioned anything. That's how I knew that I liked murdering people. The rush that it gave me...the endorphins that flooded my body as I watched her die, knowing that it was in my power to either save her or leave her to die...I knew that it was something that I had to repeat. Killing was my heroin," Lauren tells the story of her first murder, a smile slowly creeping onto her lips as she talks. Visible discomfort shows on the interviewer's face, as well as the crew behind him.

Camila never heard this story before. Listening to Lauren dictate it with a smirk on her face is overwhelming. She stands up and leaves the room quietly and quickly.

Lauren continues to talk, not even noticing her girlfriend leaving the room. "The other one isn't as interesting. The twenty-eighth name is Austin Mahone. He broke into the house I shared with Camila in the middle of the night with a gun and threatened to rob us. I kept a knife in the guest room for self-protection, so I retrieved it and was able to stab him and effectively stop him. He shot me but I'm the one who made it out."

"One thing that stuck out the most from your trial that aired on national television that left the media speechless was your guilty plea, where you explicitly stated that you have no guilt about any of your murders. You watched the media and saw your victims' family members crying over their disappearance, and still claim you feel no remorse. Do you still stand by that?" the interviewer questions. The accusatory undertones and hints of disgust can't be masked perfectly, although he tries.

"Yes, I do. It's just a part of my personality. I don't have any explanation for it. Nothing will change the fact that I don't feel guilt about my actions. Not even the fact that my girlfriend's younger sister was one of my victims. Yeah, I hate to see her sad over her sister's death, but I don't feel _guilty_ about it," Lauren shrugs nonchalantly, showing barely any emotion.

"You used to be a therapist. Your old clients report that you were extremely compassionate and one of the best therapists they've ever worked with, and people who used to know you all testify that you were very sweet and a great listener if they ever had problems. Was this kind alter-ego genuine? Or was it merely a facade?"

"It's not a facade, and I wouldn't even call it an alter-ego. I can be extremely compassionate and I will say that I give great advice. I always have since I was young. You can't fake that. I didn't, at least. It's confusing but that doesn't correlate at all with my feelings about the murders. Yeah, it sucks that the family members lost their loved ones but, as I said before, I don't feel _guilt_. I wouldn't go back and change anything. Except maybe the journal," Lauren says the last part in a joking tone, yet the interviewer unsurprisingly doesn't laugh.

"I have one last question until we bring your girlfriend into the room to interview: a common argument among psychiatrists is whether you should be considered a sociopath or a psychopath. They believe that since you are naturally charming and manipulative, you fit the textbook definition of psychopath perfectly except for one aspect: you are able to form meaningful relationships with others. Thus, some psychiatrists believe you are a sociopath for that reason. As someone who studied psychology and obtained both a Bachelor's and Master's in the field, what is your take on this?"

Lauren chuckles a bit and rolls her eyes. "God, I hate labels. I always have. Society tries to label _everything_. Frankly, my philosophy about labels is that they are for soup cans, but that's not an answer that will please you, so let me try to humor you. I know some people are probably saying the relationships I form aren't truly meaningful and that I fake them in order to get close to people who can do things for me, but they would be wrong. I'm going to sound like a narcissist, but I'm being honest when I say that I have been surrounded by close friends ever since I was a young child. Right now, I am very much in love with my girlfriend. I've made friends-- _real_ friends--in the prison, and I miss my old friends so fucking much. And you don't know how much I wish I could see my parents, or my brother, or how much I cried when I found out my sister was dead. My relationships are very much real and meaningful, and so are my emotions. So, going by the strict textbook definition of psychopathy that is taught in universities, I am not a psychopath despite fitting most of the criteria. My ability to genuinely feel ruins that. I am a sociopath, if I must label myself as anything."

The interviewer smiles at Lauren, and then turns to the camera. "After the commercial break, we will invite Lauren's current girlfriend and ask her a few questions. Stay tuned."

The camera turns off and the interviewer immediately stands up and leaves the room for a breather, as well as a majority of the crew. Hearing Lauren talk about her murders and her life as a murderer is overwhelming. It's disturbing how charming she is, too--during the interview, many of them forgot that the woman being interviewed is one of the deadliest serial killers in America. Five minutes later, the crew returns with Camila, who appears shaken and like she has been crying.

"You okay babe?" Lauren frowns as she sees the disheveled state of her girlfriend. "You really don't need to do this. It's not too late to back out, I know it was hard to listen to some of that."

"No, no, it's okay," Camila shakes her head vigorously. The crew pulls up another chair next to Lauren's and seats the smaller girl in it. As everyone gets back into their respective positions, Lauren takes her girlfriend's hand and squeezes it to comfort her.

The camera starts rolling and the director signals the interviewer to begin speaking.

"Welcome back. Tonight, I am interviewing one of the deadliest serial killers in America. Her girlfriend, Camila Cabello, who also happens to be the older sister of her final victim. Good afternoon, Camila. Thank you for joining us today," he starts his monologue by addressing the camera, and then addresses Camila at the end.

"Happy to be here to answer your questions, David," Camila speaks and cringes a bit afterward. That sounded a bit like a news anchor response and it was terribly executed. She isn't as smooth as her girlfriend in front of the camera.

"Lauren, will you briefly explain how you chose most of your victims and lured them to your house?" the interviewer turns to Lauren.

"There wasn't much to it. I went to clubs and parties that were overcrowded and full of drunk people. Everyone was too focused on themselves or their drinks to worry about what I was doing with other people. It wasn't hard to get people to come back home with me...once again, I'm going to sound like a narcissist, but I know I'm attractive based on society's standards. I could flirt with both genders, dance with them, buy them a few drinks, and soon they'd be coming home with me under the pretense of hooking up. And then instead of fucking them, I killed them in my basement. Simple as that," Lauren shrugs as if it is no big deal.

"Analyzing your victims, every victim except one was killed after they went home with you from the club. That one victim was Sofi Cabello. Why the sudden, sporadic change in pattern? Did you intend on shifting your targets to children, or was it a one time deal?" the interviewer asks.

Lauren eyes Camila and wishes that they wouldn't ask about this. Why did she even ask Camila to do this with her? She should have figured that they would have inevitably asked uncomfortable questions like this. Taking a deep breath and briefly squeezing Camila's hand tighter for a moment, she answers, "It was... a crime of opportunity. I'm not an impulsive person so it was, admittedly, very out of character as well."

The interviewer sits in silence for a few seconds, waiting for Lauren to continue. Most of her answers have been long and very elaborate. This one is not. When it becomes clear that she has nothing more to say, he tries to prompt more out of her. "So nothing stuck out about her? There wasn't anything unique?"

"Nope," Lauren wants to move onto the next topic and makes this known with her short answers and an impatient tap of the foot. Camila's eyes are glued to the ground as she focuses on not crying.

"I can tell you don't want to speak about this subject, but I have one last question pertaining to Sofi. After her murder, you completely fell off the grid as a murderer. No further murders ensued. Why? Did you ever plan on continuing, or was she your final kill?"

"As I'm sure you're aware, the disappearance of Sofi was huge in the media. I was..engrossed..in the search for her. With that, on top of the fact that it would have been a poor move for me to continue my killings during the search, I had to lay low so I stopped," Lauren says. She's careful to not say anything that would further upset Camila.

The interviewer finally turns his attention to Camila. "Camila, Lauren wasn't always your girlfriend. She was your therapist for a year. Tell us about that. What was she like? Would you have ever suspected that the woman who was helping you heal from your loss was the same woman who took your younger sister from you?"

Camila breathes and unlatches her hand from Lauren's. She closes her eyes, grounds herself, and prepares herself to answer. Opening them, she sees the concerned face of the interviewer who must pity her and think of her as pathetic. "She was wonderful. She really helped me. It was a long journey but she was the best therapist I've ever had and I'm not saying that just because she's my girlfriend. And...no, I would not have suspected that she was the Miami Butcher."

"Did you ever feel like something was off with her when your relationship evolved from therapist and client to a more intimate one?"

She initially shakes her head. For the most part, there was never any reason to believe that Lauren carried the dark secret that she did. She acted like a completely normal woman. There's a reason why she stayed off of the FBI's suspect list for the investigation. But then she remembers the incident of the break-in. The smile on Lauren's face when she was stabbing the intruder. "Actually...yeah, there was one time I thought something was a little weird. I never really thought too much about it until after the fact. It was when the intruder...Austin Mahone, I think? Yeah, him. It's when he broke into our house. She told me to hide and--too long of a story, um, it pretty much ended up with her stabbing him to death. She looked up at me in the middle of stabbing him and she was panting...blood all over her body and her face. There was this...wicked smile on her face. The smile faded and she started to cry but for a split second, I saw who she really was. But, like I said, I didn't realize it until later."

Lauren watches Camila during her whole answer, but Camila maintains eye contact with the interviewer. She feels her girlfriend's piercing stare from her green eyes. How could she not feel that powerful gaze?

"When you found the journal, how did you connect that with her being the Miami Butcher? For all you knew, she could have just been tracking the murders of the Butcher," the interviewer refers back to the journal. In her head, Lauren rolls her eyes, wishing they'd stop bringing up her damn journal.

"There was a key in it and my gut knew where the key led, so I tested it and I was right. The basement smelled like death. There were bloodstains and weapons everywhere. Everything just connected and when I confronted her...she admitted to it," Camila shudders at the memory of the fated day where everything changed.

"Lauren, back to you: did you pursue Camila because she was the sister of your final victim?" the interviewer addresses the Cuban.

"No," she answers faster than any of her other answers. "No. Absolutely not. From the moment she walked into my office I did know that she was Sofi's sister, yes. And I also knew that she was beautiful, and it wasn't because she was Sofi's sister. Our relationship didn't start until after she was no longer my client. We had a chance encounter in a bar, happened to find each other attractive, and wanted to give it a try. I fell in love with her because of who she is. I would have fallen in love with her if she had been a stranger. Her being Sofi's sister changes nothing."

"It changes absolutely nothing? You never once felt strange or wrong about the fact that you were dating your final victim's sister? You knew how much she grieved over the loss of Sofi. You even helped her through it. And yet, despite your 'love' for her, you still pursued her knowing that the truth would hurt her. Why? Were you ever self-aware that someone else would have been better for her?"

Lauren feels herself become offended and defensive over that question. When she's angry, she can't hide her emotions well. They show right on her face. Right now, her eyebrows furrow and she looks at the interviewer as if he just insulted her grandmother. "I know that someone would have technically been better for her. I was in love with her though and I couldn't stop that. I couldn't imagine being with anyone but her when I dated her. I said it earlier, were you not listening? The fact that she is a Cabello changes nothing. Love is love and nothing stops that. It conquers all, and our love did exactly that. People like you might judge us for it...you might look down on us and think that it's so toxic and unhealthy but it's our love and it's our relationship. It's hard to understand because you aren't in it. I am, and I love her unconditionally. Maybe someone would have been better for her, but no one could have loved her like I could."

For the first time during this entire interview, Camila smiles. It's this Lauren that she fell in love with. The one that would fight anything and anyone for her. The one that was, and still is, willing to make things work even in the most unlikely situations.

The interviewer nods slowly. The two of them can tell that he wants to get the hell out of there. "I have one last question, and it's for Camila. It's the other side of the same coin: why are you still with someone who has put you through so much hurt and deceit? The person who murdered your sister? In interviews during the search, you proclaimed that you wish you could kill the person who harmed your sister. Why is that different with Lauren? Why do you love her?"

"Do you believe in fate, David?" Camila turns the question around on him.

"Uh...no, I don't believe I do." He furrows his eyebrows and squints, confused at why she is asking.

Camila chuckles and shakes her head. "That's why you don't understand. I agree with everything Lauren said. No one else will understand except us. You see, I'm the biggest believer in fate here. I'm a dreamer, Lauren can attest to this. You know how Lauren said it was out of character for her to kidnap Sofi? You know how I pushed her sister, Taylor, out of a window? It's a fucked up series of events but it has led us here. Every single piece has fallen into place, and it's why we are here in this very moment in time and space. If Lauren hadn't gone out of character and taken Sofi that day, we wouldn't be here. If I had cut deep enough into my wrists and killed myself, we wouldn't be here. If I had refused to go to therapy, we wouldn't be here. If I hadn't lost my stupid wedding magazine or whatever it was the day I found the journal, we wouldn't be here. Are you following me, David? Every little moment matters and you don't think it's significant until you realize that they've all added up and led us to the very place we're supposed to be."

Lauren gazes at her girlfriend, watching her speak in awe. She didn't expect her to open up this much. Part of her was expecting her to walk out in the middle of the interview. But she hasn't even finished her answer to his final question yet.

"Are we dysfunctional? Is our relationship not what society considers healthy and ideal? Hell yes. There's no denying it, David--Lauren _fucked me up_. I was one of the smartest kids in my grade and I should be job hunting or something. I shouldn't be in prison. She threw my life off the course that I had planned but it wasn't what the universe had planned. What she did is unforgivable and I'll never forgive her for killing Sofi. She'll never forgive me for killing Taylor. But...we're still in love. We always will be. For the few months that I was separated from her while she was being convicted and placed in this prison, I didn't feel whole. No matter how strange other people might see it as...I was still drawn to her. I couldn't live without her and that's why I killed Taylor. To be with her. And now we're here, together, our souls together again. The way it's supposed to be. The way it's fated to be," Camila finishes her answer by looking over to her girlfriend, smiling, and taking her hand once more.

The interviewer has no more words to say. The crew behind the camera look at each other nervously. No one can say out loud what they're all thinking, but it's clear that there's a common thought amongst the onlookers. "Unfortunately, that's all the time we have for today. Thank you for allowing us to interview you."

Once the camera stops rolling, the crew packs up and leaves in record time, leaving the girls alone. They don't talk but simply sit together, holding hands and taking in the silence. They aren't oblivious--they could tell that the documentary crew thought they were truly strange and definitely fucked up. This is one of the only times they have felt undisturbed. In the chapel and outside, there was always the threat of a CO wandering in or another inmate and interrupting their alone time. Even in their cells, they didn't have the guaranteed privacy, as either of their cellmates could enter or a guard. Here, in the interview room, no one will check on them for at least another half hour probably. But, surprisingly, they don't use this time to have sex. The two simply snuggle closer together and allow their heartbeats to mesh.

"They really think we're fucked up, Camz," Lauren finally breaks the silence and giggles. This statement sends the two into a laughing fit. They double over, tears brimming the edges of their eyes, their abdomen beginning to ache from how hard they cackle about how terrified the crew appeared as they packed up and left.

"We are," Camila wipes a laughter-tear from her eye when they calm down. "But...like I told them, we're the special type of fucked up. We're so fucked up that you're the only person that can handle my level of fucked up and I'm the only person who can handle your level of fucked up."

During their time together at the prison, both of them were aware of this but neither of them vocalized it. It was something that went without saying, however in a way, by not saying it, they were in a state of denial.

And now that they're admitting it and embracing it, their level of fucked up reaches new highs. Now, it's too late to go back. There is no "normal" for them.

They're fucked up together, and no one can separate them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, there's still more to come. Sorry if updates ever get slow- my writers block tends to last longer than I'd like it to.
> 
> As always, leave comments and feedback because I read and appreciate every single one.
> 
> -Natalie  
> Twitter: @laurinah  
> Tumblr: laurensjauregui

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic and I will be amazed if even one person is interested in this! It got pretty long but the ideas would not stop flowing. Feel free to contact me on twitter (@laurinah) or tumblr (laurensjauregui), I'd love to hear what you thought about it.


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